Silent Feelings
by ShadowElfBard
Summary: (sequel to "Elf 17") Things are changing. Broots has been moved, Jarod is called on for help, the Centre is scheming, and Mr. Cox is back. And what exactly is Project Location really about?
1. New Beginnings

**Disclaimer: **This terrific story plot that I am working off of is not mine. My own crazy inventions however, are. So, original plot: not mine. Crazy inventions: mine. We on the same level? Good.

**Rating: **This one, like my last story, is a PG---PG-13. The only R rated movies I've ever been able to see are _Matrix Reloaded, _and _Good Morning Vietnam_. So, the only thing that makes my story this rating is some mild cuss words and perhaps one or two small fight scenes. 

**Summary: **It has been approximately one month since the events of Elf 17, and though many things are different than they were before, the tension has been somewhat lowered. That all changes however, with the arrival of a mysterious person who is said to be searching for the newly christened Astrea. For this person's search starts a catalyst, and not all that occurs because of it will be good…

**!!!Note From Author!!!: **Hey, I just want to say how proud I am that I can finally claim to be a part of this website. Because I have already finished one story, I am no longer a newbie. Whoo hoo! Oh, and a word of warning, if you have not read Elf 17 first, you will be mightily confused. I advise that you read it. Also, alas, I am not a huge Ms. Parker/Jarod romance fan. I know there are a lot of you out there, so I will add in _some _of that. But don't expect too much. Besides that, let's get reading! 

**Feedback: **(Shadow Elf has jumped through the portal, not knowing what new realm she will land in. She can only hope that it's a good one…)

    "AAHHH!" [Shadow Elf is spit out of the other end of the portal and lands unceremoniously on the ground]

   [Muttering and dusting herself off] "God, now where the heck am I?" [She sees a sign and reads it, though it is hard to do so because the words seem to travel back off of the paper]

   "Welcome to Corouscant, please park your speeder as this is a no-flying zone. Enjoy your day and…" [She pauses and raises her eyebrows at what she reads next] "'May the force be with you'?"

**Quote:  **

"The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense." 

- Tom Clancy

**************************************_ShadowElfBard_************************************

**Story Time!**

8:33 AM, Monday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre (surprise, surprise)

Pursuit Team's Main Office

Broots' Computer Terminal

Broots casually sipped his java from a no-spill metallic holder as he started up his computer. He liked to come in early to work, not because he liked his job, but because it gave him time to get started without having to worry about when Lyle was going to show up.

   That's right, after the Triumvirate was told about the escape; one of the first changes they made was putting Mr. Lyle on the pursuit team.

   So far, it had been hell. Lyle, Broots learned, besides being a total psychopath and all around evil guy, was extremely resentful and could stay angry for a long, long time. It has been approximately one month and five days since the escape Jarod and Astrea made, and though there have been many changes, (and presumably more to come according to the director), Lyle's anger for Jarod and Astrea have not been one of them.  

   Broots supposed the only one who hated Lyle being on the team more than him, was Ms. Parker.

   She gave so many glares and bit out so many retorts at her twin that Broots had been left alone from most of her usual quips. Lyle was taking the brunt of the attack, and Broots really couldn't complain. Personally, he thought that Lyle deserved it.

   One thing that was worrying Broots more than Lyle's placement on the team, and that was distressing Sydney as well, was that in the one month and five days since the escape, there had only been one clue Jarod had given, and it had been so complicated and well done that when they had reached his last lair, he'd been gone for nearly three weeks. Never had they found a trail that cold before. Never. Not only that, but the place hadn't had a single taunting hint, or a playful jab at the pursuit team that was left behind. None of them had been contacted by Jarod as of yet, and thus far there had been no new leads since his last lair. It was beginning to worry the team, Ms. Parker as well. Because without leads, the pursuit team was failing, and at the Centre, failure didn't come without punishment.

   The search for Astrea wasn't going well either; though Broots thought that since he hadn't told anyone what name she was going under he might be responsible for that. The one thing that had surprised most of the pursuit team, was that the Triumvirate was deadly serious about both pretenders being brought back. They wanted her back just as much as they wanted Jarod. It was sort of hard to comprehend for the team. After all, he, Ms. Parker, and Sydney had all gone through the past two to three years taught that Jarod was the most important asset to the Centre. It was kind of hard to get used to the fact that there could be someone as important as Jarod. 

   Broots closed his eyes as he sipped down his drink, trying to calm his mind and nerves with the magic of a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

    "You've got mail." Came a mail voice from his computer.

    Broots scrunched his face, his momentary peace gone. He **_knew _**he should have signed up with Juno instead of AOL. Ah well.

   He moved his mouse and opened up his e-mail, ready to read the mail that he supposedly had. The letter started downloading and when it was finished Broots promptly opened it.

   Ten seconds later, he wished he hadn't.

8:48 AM, Monday

Pensacola, Florida

Street Corner

Bus Stop

Jarod told the driver his thanks and shifted the weight of his duffel bag from his right shoulder to his left as he stepped off the bus and began walking down the sidewalk. 

   It was a beautiful morning, as it usually seemed to be in the orange grove state. The sun was already up and warming the world, and Jarod was glad that he'd worn his black tinted sunglasses. People walked about at a slow and easy pace. There were some joggers and some who came out for a daily walk of exercise that went at a slightly faster pace than the rest of the scattered pedestrians, but all in all people were relaxed. 

   Jarod stopped walking for a moment and pulled off his sunglasses, revealing his beautiful brown eyes. He looked skyward, raising an arm to block off the glare of the sun, and smiled at the dazzling blue sky. There were clouds, large white almost pearl colored cotton puffs that drifted lazily by, and he could hear the orioles and other birds as they sung from trees and telephone wires. He gave a small grin, becoming more laid-back in that instant than he had been for the past four weeks since his liberation.

   He then sighed and stuck the shades back on, and began strolling down the sidewalk. 

   Personally, he really hadn't wanted to some to the east coast. After he and Astrea had split up back in Tennessee, he had wanted to stay as far away from Delaware as humanly possible. He'd even considered leaving the country and going to England, or Scotland, or even Greenland. He really hadn't counted on traveling to the same coast that the Centre was on. But he'd also realized that there was a new change within him that he needed to get rid of. 

   He was afraid.

   He'd been afraid before, it's not like he was some courageous fictional character who always laughed at danger. No, he'd never laughed at it, but before he'd been captured he's been at least able to chuckle. Now, he was paranoid. He'd set up something for the pursuit team to follow while he was traveling with Astrea, but even then he'd made it as complicated as he could so that they'd have a heck of time figuring it out. That had been a few weeks back. Now he was becoming so paranoid that he wondered if he should leave clues at all.

   Jarod's eyes showed the pain he felt behind his impenetrable black lenses as he neared a motel.

   He was beginning to feel lost, and he worried that if he let this fear overwhelm him, the side effects would leave him a broken man. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the paranoia, or the concern that the Centre was on his trail. It was a horrible feeling, fear. It made you feel so naked and unprotected, so weak and vulnerable; that you looked over your shoulder every five minutes and that you were afraid to enter your own home at night. The feeling was more gut wrenching than anything he'd felt before. Even his love for Ms. Parker didn't hurt this much.

   He entered the motel and rung the small bell on the counter. A middle-aged black woman came out, wearing a nice suit and a wide smile.

    "Can I help you sir?"

   "Yes, I'd like to know the daily rate for renting a room here please."

   She kept the smile on her face as she talked. "Well sir, per night it's about forty dollars without extra add-on's such as room service and call-in movies."

   "Is breakfast included in the price?"

   "Yes sir. The breakfast room is open from 6:30AMto 10:30AM and they serve coffee, juice, donuts, and bagels." 

    He nodded. "All right then, I'd like to book a room for three nights please."

   She reached down under the counter and handed him a card key with a door number on it. "Very well sir, you pay for the room the day you plan to leave. Any extras will be added on to your final total and we accept credit cards, cash, and checks."

   "Thank-you," he said and then grabbed the key. 

   "My pleasure. Enjoy your stay!"

   She watched as he waved in acknowledgement and then walked down the hall towards his room. The grin faded from her face and she rubbed her sore cheek muscles.

   "I swear one of these day I'm going to pull something from smiling so much." She shook her head and then went into the back room, still rubbing the side of her face.

8:50 AM, Monday

Jessup, Maryland

Unspecified Area

Astrea's Temporary Bedroom

Astrea Edona Broots groaned and rolled over once more in a half-sleep. Realizing that her brain somehow felt it was time for her to get up, she reluctantly moved out from under the newly-bought blankets and stretched while down on her knees, extending her arms and arching her back. She then stood up, and walked past a dusty, fractured mirror over to an old, almost antique dresser where she'd placed the clothing she'd been accumulating. It was a chilly winter morning, and she was not surprised to see a light snowfall outside of the filthy and cracked window. 

   Through half-opened eyes she rummaged through the drawer and then grabbed a set of clothing. She took off the t-shirt she'd slept in, changed her lingerie, and slipped into a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt with a Celtic design on the front. Then, remembering the weather, she put on her gray sweatshirt over the top.

   She yawned, rolling back her tongue in her mouth as she did so, so that the act resembled a dog's yawn, and then began making her way over to the bathroom.

    Astrea had found this place, deciding to settle down in one spot after she'd finished her four-state training session with Jarod. It had been fun, she had to admit, going from state to state, solving crimes and helping people. They'd gone to Arizona, Washington, North Dakota and Tennessee, and each state had given Astrea training that she'd need should she choose to follow Jarod's lead and travel the globe, staying forever a wraithlike protector who smites the wicked and gives justice to the innocent.

   She'd found this house however, when she realized that that wasn't the life for her.

   She loved the idea of helping people, she really did, but her heart wasn't in the way Jarod worked. Never staying in one place too long, always traveling, solving crimes and scaring the criminals into confession. She liked traveling, it was fun and exciting, but she'd discovered difficulties. For one, her age was a nuisance. Because she was only fifteen, she didn't have the freedom Jarod did. She couldn't take on any job she wanted, because in most places, she was underage to get a full-time job. She also didn't really think she could handle the way Jarod worked. He'd solve a crime, find out who had done it, and the scare the person so badly that they would give a full confession. She wasn't able to do that. She just couldn't deal with it. The first time she'd tried she'd broken down and Jarod had been forced to take over. Her last reason, the one that had really been the decision maker, was that she stuck out like a sore thumb wherever she went. Her ears, her teeth, even her finely toned body made her appear less than normal. She'd ruin the pretend and be caught if she ever slipped up and transformed in front of someone, and she wouldn't take that chance. She couldn't take that chance.

   So, she'd traveled to Maryland after the split-up. She'd gone around, deciding whether or not to rent out a room or stay in a hotel or make her own home, when she'd stumbled across this place. It was a huge house, and extremely old. It seemed to have been abandoned, because there'd been only a few pieces of furniture and each piece looked like it hadn't been touched for nearly ten to twelve years. She looked the house up on the internet, and found that the last owners had lived there nearly thirteen years ago, but had never returned or sold the house or anything. The place had just been…forgotten.

   Which suited her purposes just fine.

   Astrea, using the large amount of money Jarod had given her to start her off with, had been in the last week or so making the home her own. She'd dusted off most of the furniture, cleaned out as many rooms as she could, (there were five bedrooms alone), and had added in little personal touches. She'd bought a laptop, and a portable modem, so she received the money she needed to pay for things and such playing the stock market. She found she was rather good at it, and withdrew the cash she made from a carefully set up bank account. 

   And she was also in a secluded area. There was a wide expanse of woods behind the house, and there were no other homes around in any direction for about eleven miles, so, there was no one to comment on her strange appearance or less-than-ordinary mannerisms. So, for the moment at least, she was fine and safe. She had a home, (though she had no idea how long it would be until someone found out about her living there), and for the first time in a long, long, long time, she was truly happy and content.

   She came out of the bathroom, and gazed through the window at the barren forest, and the white covering that decorated it. She took in a deep, breath and exhaled the icy air slowly, a smile on her lips.

   It was a wonderful feeling.

9:27 AM Monday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Parker Residence

Ms. Parker's Bedroom

Ms. Parker mumbled incoherently as her radio alarm clock lulled her from the tranquil state of sleep.

She grudgingly rolled out of bed, folding her arms from the change in temperature that came from moving out from under puffy warm blankets to an open wood floored room. 

   The radio announcer was talking; saying that it was nearly two below outside and that there was a chance of snowfall in the next day or so. His annoying perkiness made her scowl at the radio through the slits her eyes had become. She grabbed her silken robe from the door hook she had hanging on her bathroom door and pulled it on. She thought about turning off the radio as she opened the door to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair, but found that for the moment she really didn't care.

    She thought about what she'd have to be doing today as she went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. It was Monday, the beginning of a brand new week. A fresh start, the chance to make everything different and better than the week before.

   Yippee.

She clutched her head as she felt a headache come on, and she reached into the medicine cabinet for the bottle of aspirin. She grabbed two tablets and popped them in her mouth, grabbing a paper cup from the corner of her sink and filling it with water so she'd be able to gulp down the pills. 

  She was having aches more frequently these days, she noticed with a slight curling of her lip. Headaches, backaches, stomachaches, heart- she cut off in her line of thought. Whoa, wrong turn; get back on the main road. You don't want to travel down that street. She closed her eyes and tried to redirect her mind but found the task very difficult. She shrugged. Ah, what the hell. Thinking about 'wonder boy' wouldn't hurt all that much would it?

   She grabbed for a comb and as she brushed her hair she let her mind wander where it wanted to.

   So far at the Centre, things had been getting worse, if it was possible to get any worse that is. Her father was being even more secretive; tracking Jarod had become about as impossible as Raines growing hair, and to top it all of her **_dear _**brother **_Lyle_** was more psychotic than usual. God she hated him. If he weren't her brother she'd tie lead weights to his feet and drop in the Hudson. Hell, just as long as daddy didn't find out she'd still do it. Bloodlines be damned. Just thinking about that conniving bastard made her eyes burn with anger. 

   "It's too damn early to be this pissed off." She said with a slight smile on her lips, remembering when Elf 17 had spoken the phrase.

   Her brother was one problem; but Jarod was a whole other one.

   She was beginning to worry about him. She hated to admit it, because she felt herself weak because of it, but she was concerned for him. What had happened at the Centre must have really shaken him up, because she'd been able to sleep all through the night for the past month. Not a single midnight phone call. He hadn't even given her a new cryptic message or painful clue.

   She reached for her toothbrush, and squeezed some toothpaste onto it.

   She should be happy, she supposed, after all no more mind-games was a good thing right? Hell yeah. It was the one thing that had probably kept her back from him. The clues, the playing, and the messages he gave her in such a hidden language. Just when she thought things couldn't be any worse, that there were no secrets left to uncover, he popped up all bright and cheery, so self-righteous, staring down at her from a higher moral platform, to throw another little bit of info about her family, and the Centre, and her father. 

   She closed her eye and continued brushing her teeth, and then her ear caught the sweet song that had just begun on the radio. It had a pretty good rhythm. Singer was good too. Her name was, Janet, Julie, no, Jewel. Yeah, that was it, Jewel. Her songs were okay, they were more realistic than most of the other trash out there anyways. She moved her head slightly to the music of the song as she listened to the lyrics.

_…Well in case you failed to notice,_

_In case you failed to see, _

_This is my heart, bleeding before you,_

_This is me down on my knees._

_   These foolish games are tearing me apart_

_Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart_

_You're breaking my heart…_

Ms. Parker's eyes snapped open and she threw down the toothbrush, rushed out, and quickly shut off the radio.

   She stood there for a moment, staring in an almost fear, and finally squinted her eyes at it with suspicion, and slowly backed away and headed into the bathroom, never once removing her eyes off the silent machine.

   Once back in the bathroom she leaned up against the tiled wall and ran a hand through her hair.

   God she was becoming paranoid…

9:38 AM Monday

St. Louis, Missouri

Indeterminable Location

On A Bus

Lia sighed as she stared out the window of the bus at the snow-covered terrain as it passed by. She liked December well enough, it was a beautiful month, but this month…she really didn't want to be reminded of the holiday season.

  She looked down at the pad of paper in her hand, her poem-pad as she called it, and began to flip through the pages, bored and deciding to read over some of her own writing. She reached the one she had appropriately named Fear.

_It is a lioness on the hunt_

_That falls upon you like waves upon the sand_

_It makes controlling your mind like taming wild mustangs_

_We loathe and despise it_

_Yet we created it_

_With our books and our movies_

_With our memories of the past and our thoughts of the future_

_It takes things we know nothing about_

_And uses them to its advantage_

_It cannot be killed_

_Because it has no true form_

_It is cunning and malicious_

_And as a shadow it follows you_

_Like morning follows night_

She smiled at her work. That was one of her more somber poems. She had better ones; she had sonnets, and couplets, quatrains and free verse. She even had a haiku or two. She loved to write. It was her passion, and one of the only ways she could express her thoughts. 

   She'd been needing to do a lot of that lately.

She put her poem pad down on the empty seat where her backpack was and returned to looking out the window. She still couldn't believe that she was an orphan now, and breaking the law to boot. Her mother and father shouldn't have gone out that night, but of course, they had. She clenched her fists as she thought about it. Her parents had been coming home from a movie out in town and had gotten in an accident with a drunk driver. They'd died en route to the hospital. 

   Lia's mother had been an only child, her father was dead and her mother was in a nursing home. Lia's father also had had no relatives she could go to. His mother had raised him and his brother, and his mom had passed away last June. Lia's uncle would have had custody of her she supposed, had he not been in jail serving time for attempted auto theft. So, Lia would have been sent to the orphanage. She probably would have stayed there too, had she not found out about something her mother had kept from her. 

   She'd been in the lawyer's office; as he'd told her about her parent's will and belongings that were put into safekeeping should something happen to them. There'd been a good amount of money entrusted to her, along with the deeds to the home they owned, but one thing had been left in a safety deposit box that had outshined all of the other things that had been left behind. 

   It had been a letter. 

   On the letter, that had been clearly meant for her in case something should happen, was information that had caused Lia to pack up a backpack with clothing and her favorite items, withdraw all the money from the bank account her parents had set up, (including some of the money left to her), and escape the orphanage where she'd been put. The information had been very simple and straightforward.

   She had a sister.

   The letter had told her how her parents had been forced to give up their firstborn, (who apparently wasn't Lia), for adoption when they had lived in Los Angeles. Her parents hadn't wanted to be close to that place and the horrible memories it held and had moved to Kentucky. That's where Lia had been born.

   Once Lia found out about it, she'd made up her mind. If she had a sister, she sure as hell wasn't going to let herself be handed off to some other family and totally ignore that fact. Nope. She was going to find her. 

   So she'd set out, with no idea where her sister was, or what her name was, and was now traveling to Los Angeles California going to hopefully meet with the orphanage that had taken care of her sister. She had a picture of her sister, when she was about one, and could only hope that would be enough to identify her. It was going to be tough though, and she had to face it, she wasn't exactly the bravest person in the world. But this was important, and she'd find her sister. What she'd do afterward, she had no idea, but she'd worry about that when she got to it. 

   She allowed herself a small smile and the bus drove on. 

************************************************************************************

First chapter finished! Yeah, I know, not a whole lot of action at all, but I'm trying to go into this one a bit slowly, and get your acquainted with the situation. Also, I don't know if anyone caught it, but there is something different about Lia. Okay, actually there are two things different, but only one was hinted at. Can you tell me what it is? ;) 


	2. Poor Broots

**Disclaimer:** I can do this, I can do this…(tears start welling up) I can do this…(breaks down crying) It's not mine! It's not mine! Oh it's not mine! (Curls into fetal position and starts sucking thumb)

**Rating:** This chapter is a PG-13. 

**Summary:** We discover what the e-mail was all about, and find out more about some of the other character's feeling at the moment.

**!!!Authors Note!!!: This chapter is going to be written in first person. I'd like some reviews to tell me whether you'd like me to keep it or not.**

**Feedback: **(Shadow Elf is now exploring this new realm. She's standing on a large catwalk that is miles up from the ground. She's in a strange area, and there are tons of different aliens around her.)

   [Looking down] "Wow. This place is weird."

   (She doesn't see the rogue speeder that comes up behind her and rams into her back. She goes flying off the catwalk, screaming as she falls. When she lands, she crashes on the top of a table)

 [She clutches her head and moans] "I'm going to feel that one in the morning…" [She then looks up, and a man in a white suit of armor is glaring down at her through his mask]

   "Heh, heh. I'm really, **_really_** sorry. I didn't mean to spoil your lunch, so if you'll excuse me I'll just be going now…"

   [He unhooks a blaster and aims it at her head]

   "O-o-o-o-h-h-h crap."

**Quote:**

**"Maybe this world is another planet's Hell." **

**- Aldous Huxley **

*************************************_ShadowElfBard_*************************************

12:05 PM, Monday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Mr. Parker's Office

**(Broots)**

I hold my shaking hands in front of me, as sweat dampens my forehead. God this is terrible. I've imagined a lot of horrible things at the Centre before, most of them happening to me, but never would I have imagined this. 

   Quite simply, I've been fired.

   No, no, not **_that _**type of fired. I don't get to salute my goodbye and march home, throw Debbie in the car, drive to the airport, fly to Hong Kong and live out the rest of my life under a new name at a new job in freedom from the Centre. (By the way, that stuff right there? My personal dream.) Nope. It's never that simple for me. It's never simple for poor Broots. No, I've been fired from my job on the pursuit team.

   Now I know what you're thinking. Hell, I've been thinking the exact same thing ever since I was "offered" my job at the Centre. 

   It doesn't make sense. 

  Why would I be fired from my job on the pursuit team? If I've been fired, why am I not dead? So far, from the convenient little e-mail they sent me, I know that I was fired because they believe that the current failure with Jarod is my fault. Why they would think that, is something only their psychiatrists can answer. As to why I'm still living, well, I am in what is so kindly and positively referred to as the Dead Zone. (You'd think that the people who were creative enough to fake deaths could have come up with their own name rather than stolen the one off of a Stephen King novel.) 

   The "Dead Zone", quite simply, is where you are when you're sitting on the middle of a seesaw. If you slide down one way, you are killed and the Centre makes it so you never existed. If you slide the other way, you get to live a bit longer and are put to work somewhere else within the Centre.

   Hi-ho, hi-ho, I hope it's off to work I go. 

   The secretary in front of me, a woman who could be Bridgett's twin, pops a bubblegum bubble and then points with the tip of her pen towards Mr. Parker's office.

   "The Director will see you now." Her voice has a strange, almost nasal accent.

  What is it with this man and blondes who have accents? He's obsessed! Definitely took a different turn from his original wife. Though maybe that was his intention…

   "Are you just going to stand there or should I open the door for you?" the secretary asks me in an annoyed voice.  

   "N-No, I'll be fine. Thank-you." Geez, sorry for having to make you actually do your **_job_** lady.  

   She just rolls her eyes and goes back to reading whatever magazine she has in front of her.

   I go and walk towards the director's office, gaining a bit of revenge in knowing that she probably won't be at the Centre much longer. I then curse myself for feeling sympathy at the thought.

   I enter the room, and see Mr. Parker sitting behind his desk, his hands calmly folded in front of him. He appears to have just been in a meeting with someone, and as I open the door fully I see Lyle and Raines off in the corner, barely acknowledging me but for a casual gaze in my direction. Which personally, I'm extremely grateful for. Raines **_still_** hasn't forgotten the episode in front of the T-board, and still refuses to acknowledge the fact that it actually worked to his advantage. The blind corpse. He should have been six feet under years ago.

   Whoa. Where did **_that _**thought come from? I must be hanging around Ms. Parker too much. 

   "Y-You wanted to see me sir?" I ask nervously, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. Usually, the nervous and always-afraid act is just an act. Usually. But when you're standing in front of a man who could make it so that you'd never been born, well, your acting tends to turn a bit more real.

   He gives one of his famous politician smiles. "Ah yes, Broods." The desire to live is all that keep my eyes from rolling. "I was just in a meeting, but since this is such a trivial matter I suppose it couldn't hurt to take a few minutes to settle this."

  Of course you were in a meeting, I think glumly. Those two psychos **_never_** leave. And, of course, they'd be here just when I don't want them to be.

   Mr. Parker turns to his computer, and my eyes widen as I scan over his system. Wow it's a beauty. Looks brand new too… I suddenly see the packaging the computer came out of in the corner of the room. Oh. It is new. The man probably gets a new system every time there's an update in computers. The lucky dog… 

   Mr. Parker frowns at the monitor. "Hmm, that's strange. I can't find your file. I typed in your name…"

   "Try spelling it correctly." I mutter before I can stop myself. My eyes bulge and a hand flies to my mouth. Oh crap!

   Mr. Parker, thank the lord, didn't hear me. Though from the slick smile that Lyle gives, I can tell that **_he_ **heard it perfectly. 

  "Hm?" Ms. Parker asks, raising his head. "Did you say something?"

  I clear my throat, and try to ignore Lyle's evil grin. "Yes sir, I suggested that you, uh, try spelling my last name with a 'T'." 

   He raises an eyebrow but then tries it. "Well how about that! It worked! Huh. Strange spelling. Computer must not be working properly…"

   Now both Raines and Lyle hold back snickers. I just try to keep my gaze on the floor.

  Mr. Parker than goes over the information that he's called up. "Well Broods, I have good news. There have been several bids made."

   Try as I might, I can't keep a dumbfounded, "huh?" from slipping out. 

   Mr. Parker looks confused at my response. "What do you mean, 'huh'?"  

    "I, I'm sorry sir I just thought you were going to tell me what was going to happen to me."

    "That **_is _**what I'm telling you."

    I deadpan. 

    Mr. Parker sighs. "Really Broods, don't tell me that after all this time at the Centre you don't know what happens when one of the lower employees is removed from a job?"

   "It's uh, never happened to me before sir."

   He gives an almost sympathetic look that only baffles me further.

   "Broods, they're auctioned."

   I can't hide my horror. "They're what?"

   "Yes. Well, you know how we usually deal with employees who are fired." He gives a grin that makes me sick to my stomach. "And we can't just keep hiring new people. It isn't cost effective. So, the lower employees are posted on a specially set up corner of the Centre website that includes their picture, their name, their last employment in and out of the Centre, their special skills, etc. Then the higher-ups on the different floors bid. The highest bidder gains a new employee. Simple as that."

   Simple. Yeah, right. This is simple and logical, and I'm seven foot four and a body builder. These people really do have a thing for owning things don't they? I'm glad that I never stumbled across that 'corner' in any of my searches on the Centre mainframe. It sounds like the E-Bay from hell. I shudder at the thought of what happens to those who aren't bid on. Hey. Wait a minute. I forget, was I bid on?

   "So, uh, Mr. Parker, have I been." I swallow back saliva and manage to say the word. "Bid on?"

   He nods. "Yes Mr. Broods. Thirteen different higher-ups bid on you."

   I allow myself a small, mental smile. Wow, I'm flattered. I guess they have noticed my good skills. I wonder how high the bid wen- Whoa! Bad thoughts! Bad thoughts! Someone at the Centre interested in you is a bad thing! A very, very bad thing!

   Mr. Parker clicks on something that only he could see on the screen, and then leans back in his chair. "Well, we'll only have to wait a few more seconds before we find out your new job." There's a soft 'ping' and he leans forward again and then begins scrolling up a list.

   "All right Mr. Broods, the highest bidder was…" He raises his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Why Dr. Raines, I didn't know you were searching for a private technician." 

    I think my heart just stopped.

   Raines gives a grin. "Well I didn't know that such a…useful technician was up for grabs." He gives me a scrutinizing look and I hold back my breakfast as it threatens to reemerge. "I believe I can make good use of him."

   "Oh darn. I'd had bids on him too. Well, you win some you lose some." Lyle says with an almost wistful sigh, and though I can tell that though he's sincere it also seems to hold a bit of mean spirited teasing meant to scare me further.

   Well, it works.

   I believe I can officially say at this point, that I have never been more terrified in my entire life than I am at this current moment. I'm only surprised that I haven't wet my pants yet. God. Raines bid on me, Lyle bid on me… Who else bid on me? Satan? 

   I swallow roughly, and then look with almost pleading eyed towards Mr. Parker, who I believe, is one of the only sane people in this room, and he totally ignores me and issues his orders. Typical.

   "I think that now would be a good to go get your things packed Mr. Broods."

   I nod, still not entirely aware of all that's happening to me, praying to god that I'll wake up and this will all have been just a horrible nightmare, but when Raines' smile sends shivers down my spine, my hope screams in pain and withers into a twisted, black, and disfigured form. 

   Raines is clearly taking some personal revenge out of my reaction. "Be in my office in fifteen minutes. We'll discuss what you're new job will include then Mr. Broots." 

   Huh. How about that. The evil, sadistic, malevolent, wicked, child torturing, demonic, walking corpse who is about to make my existence the very embodiment of a living hell, got my name right. Well what do you know?

   I leave the room calmly, and start walking down the hall. 

   I hate my life.

2:45 PM, Monday

Pensacola, Florida

Shopping Center

Grocery Store 

**(Jarod)**

I stroll down the candy aisle of the grocery store, a place called Fresh Farm, and my eyes lit up at all of the treasure on the shelves. It's the mother load, the jackpot. There's enough candy here to keep a kid happy until Halloween.

   And I have a MasterCard.

I immediately start reaching for various bags of goodies, grinning from ear to ear, and my eyes widen in unhidden delight as I see several variety packs of PEZ. There are even some containers for sale. I pick out a few, a yoda, a bugs bunny, and an odd old man with a pointed gray hat. Then I go back to ransacking the candy.

   An older woman walks past, but then stops and gapes at me, her mouth hanging open at the rapidly filling basket of candy.

   I shrug and look at her kindly. "My son's birthday party."

   Then she smiles and nods her head in understanding before wheeling her cart past me.

   I let out a sigh and then look down in my basket to see what I've picked out. Well, there's the Pez, the bags of Reeses, the Hershey bars, the Snickers, the gumballs, the M&M's, and the Christmas candy that's been set out for the upcoming holiday.

   I look at the sweets with fondness, and then start heading towards the counter to pay for the goods.

   There are just some things that, even when on the run, you can't do without.

   I get into the lane, and when it comes my turn I carefully place down each individual bag. The clerk rings it up, giving me a look or complete bafflement before bringing up the total to the small amount of ninety-three dollars. 

      What can I say, I love candy. 

   I just grin and hand her my credit card, happily thanking the Centre for being so kind as to provide me with the money I need to squelch my sugar craving. The bagger hands me the plastic bags full, and as I leave a little boy, sitting in his mother's shopping cart, gapes with a mouth wider than the Potomac at my mound of sweets. I pass him a Hershey bar, and wink at him before strolling out.

   I take in a deep breath of the fresh air before I start walking back in the direction of my hotel. The place is actually pretty nice, though it may just seem that way because of what I'm used to. But anyplace that serves free breakfast can't be bad right? Especially if they provide cupboards for me to store all of my candy in. 

  I begin walking down the sidewalk, looking around at the various shops and people. Maybe coming out will do me some good. I have to get over this paranoia; it's dangerous to keep around. Being afraid is healthy, and keeps you on your toes, but as with everything, it's not healthy in excess. But perhaps I'm coming over it, slowly but surely. I know that I need to. After all, I haven't seen any sweepers in the past month or so. I shouldn't needlessly worry myself over something that's not going to happe-

   I freeze as I spot a man at the end of the sidewalk, coming my way, looking around while wearing a black suit and dark glasses, with a phone pressed to his ear.

   Oh my god it's a sweeper.

   I quickly run to a small alley between two shops. I press myself against the wall, thinking of ways I can get past him. I've got a million ideas and questions running through my always-active mind, and I hear him coming closer. I think I know how to get past him, but I wonder whom he's talking to. If I can find out if the pursuit team's here or if it's just a sweeper team then I can better plan my escape.

   I listen in as he nears me.

   "No Kevin…no, no! Look we tried that **_last _**week. The boss will have my head if we screw this project up and you know it."

   Project? There's a new project at the Centre?! 

   "Oh come **_on. _**You have to be more creative than that. The boss says he has a lot riding on this deal, and if we do anything to mess it up..."

   Okay, now I'm just confused.

   I watch as he begins to walk past me and I'm about to sigh with relief when he suddenly stops and turns to me. I become frozen with fear. Do I run? Do I fight him off? What should I do?!

   He places his hand over one end of his phone. "Hey, buddy, you wouldn't happen to know the time would you? My friend and I are going to be late to a meeting with my boss and his clients, and we have to be there on time or the guy'll kill us. You know how these corporate deals are right?"

   All I can do is nod, dumfounded, and I read him the time on my watch. He thanks me and then walks off, continuing his conversation.

   I feel like slamming my head on brick wall I'm leaning against. It was just a guy. A plain old employee talking on his cell, who just happened to be wearing a black suit. Not a sweeper.

   This fear thing is really getting out of hand…

8:36 PM, Monday

Jessup, Maryland

Woods Behind Astrea's Home

**(Astrea)**

I gaze up at the nighttime sky, and my eyes shimmer with delight. I have to do this once in a while. Ever since I've been free, my animal side has been becoming more anxious, and more powerful as well. So I'll go out nearly every night, and I'll hunt. No, I don't mean what it is other people do with guns. **_That _**isn't hunting. Personally, I believe that it is murder. In a true hunt, it's all about survival. A true hunt has nothing to do with guns or weapons, only the predators' body. But I do not hunt like the true predators either, at least, I don't commit to the final act. I would never kill another creature, when I have food readily available to me that I can eat without having to end another's life. I'll hunt down a creature, usually a rabbit or smaller mammal, and I'll chase it, but I won't kill it. 

   Right now, I'm wearing all black. Tight black sweatpants, and a tight sleeveless shirt. If I'm not able to blend in, the creature will be alerted to my presence before I have time to prepare. And I don't want that to happen.

   A bird cries out into the night and my pace through the thick trees of the woods quickens. Crickets chirp and sing to the silvery orb hung high in the midnight sky and add a tone to my traveling. The moon's ghostly white light streams over my face and I go fluidly into the darkness, moving as easily and freely as water. The shadows comfort me as I hunt, masking my presence with its deathlike blackness.

   My bare feet move soundlessly, snapping and bending neither twig nor blade of grass. My strong muscles move me effortlessly through the trees. The wind kicks up and my hair whirls and sways, becoming alive with each gust of air. My eyes, though now a pale green, burn with intensity, holding the fire of a thousand lava pools in their centers.

   Then a noise in the distance catches my attention and I move low to the ground. My slender elf-like strain to hear more and my heart beats faster with the prospect of the unknown. The thrill seems to calm my more primal side, and I become fully immersed within the pretend of the predator.

   The noise does not return however, and I once again feel it safe to move on. After a few more silent moments I reach a clearing and I move cautiously out into the open, my every sense on the alert.

   My eyes fix on something in the shadows stretched before me and a slow smile appears on my face.

   I take more time now, moving as though one with the earth and air around me, risking no sound from the unpredictable ground. I finally come within range of my prey and I crouch down slowly to the dampened grass, tightening and coiling my muscles for the sprint that's sure to follow

   My spotted quarry stops its nibbling and pulls its head up, swiveling its ears to detect sounds of movement. I hold my breath, knowing the hearing of this creature well. Its tiny ebony eyes catch mine and for a moment, a silent understanding of each other's purposes pass through us both.

   I stare a second longer and then my prey leaps up, and is off at a speed that makes it appear as a blur in the blackness, but I posses the sight of the predators, and I see each movement it makes clearly. I give chase, my pounding heartbeats muffled only by the sound of my feet on the rich brown earth. For a moment it seems I may actually win, that I might finally succeed where before I have failed, but alas a bush is found and my rabbit foe burrows deep into the sanctity of its own home.

   I finally stop then, realizing the futility of chasing further. But despite failure's cruel eye glaring down on me, I grin at the creature's cunning and respect my adversary's wit. It was a good run.

    Trying to calm myself after the exertion, I gaze up to the sky and watch the gray strands of clouds float lazily by, trying not to think, just feel. I look over at my prey's escape once more and then I head back to my own home.

   But as I walk back a thought worries me. Something is going on inside of me, I can feel it. I'm not sure what it is, though I have many theories, and it frightens me. I've always known that no matter how old I became the fact that I'm a feral pretender would cause some trouble for me. But these past few days…  I am nearing an equilibrium. Before, my human side was always the more dominant, and I controlled my other half with an almost ease. But now it's nearing a balance point, and after that point is achieved, I'm not entirely certain that my animal side won't keep taking control and eventually overpower me.

   I shudder, and look up to see that I'm already near the house.

   Perhaps I'm wrong. It wouldn't be the first time. Pretenders are human also, they are fallible, and it's plausible that I'd be afraid. Maybe I'm just worried. 

   I suppose I'll find out in the morning, but right now I need to rest. Somehow I sense that the quiet days I've been experiencing are going to come to an abrupt halt.

8:49 PM, Monday

Just Entering Utah

On A Bus 

**(Lia)**

 I yawn and awake slowly, smiling at the person who shook me from my sleep in thanks. I stand up with the rest of the passengers, and shuffle my way into the line that's being formed to head off of the bus at the pit stop we're making.

   After I step off and notice that we've stopped at a bus stop near a McDonalds and an electronics store, I quickly make my choice as to which one I'm heading into.

   The electronics store is nearly empty, and besides me, a man, and two women near the back, there's no one shopping. It's probably because it's so late, but really, an electronics store nearly empty? That's strange on my list.  

   I head directly to the music aisle, and start scanning the rows of CD's. I'm looking for a particular artist, the only one I really listen to. I suddenly see the nametag I'm looking for, Jewel. I don't care that what she sings about is not considered 'in' or 'cool'. So she doesn't sing about love in every single song, so what? I like that she sings about life, and society, and how people need to help each other more. I love how soothing and energetic the music is at the same time.

   I grab one of her CD's that I don't have, and before leaving also add onto my purchase a CD containing Celtic music.

   I had towards the checkout counter, and am nearly knocked over by a man carrying some computer add-ons.

   "Oh, dear me I'm so sorry, I didn't notice you there. Are you all right?" he asks politely, putting out a hand to help me up to my feet. 

   I quickly nod as I'm pulled up, and notice from his reaction and the vibes I'm getting that he is genuinely sorry. I then flash a quick, almost nervous smile and nearly run to the checkout counter, a little weirded out by him. 

   After the things are paid for, I head back out into the parking lot and hear the three honks from the bus that signal that it's time to board.

   I climb on, and after getting back into my seat set out to the task of opening the packaging that enwraps my new Jewel CD.

   I insert the sick into my portable player, and close my eyes, letting the music flow over me.

_If I could tell the world just one thing it would be_

_We're all okay_

_And not to worry cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these_

_I won't be made useless_

_Won't be idled with despair_

_Hold myself around my faith _

_Which lights the darkness most fear_

_These hands are small I know _

_But they're not yours they are my own_

_But they're not yours they are my own _

_And I am never broken_

I get so wrapped up in the music that I hardly noticed the person beside me until I'm tapped on the shoulder.

   I quickly push stop, and then take off the headphones and look to see who was trying to get my attention.

   "I don't mean to disturb you, but there are no other seats, may I take this one?"

   It's the man from before! The one in the electronic store! He seems to make the same connection I do and nearly blushes. 

   "Oh, I'm sorry, if you don't want me to sit by you…"

   I vigorously shake my head no and move my backpack off the empty seat beside me and scoot it under my chair, moving over the window seat as I do so to make room for him to sit down.

   He grins and takes a seat, and I notice that all he's brought with him are a black suitcase and a black laptop carrying case, along with a plastic bag carrying the supplies he'd bought in the store.

   "Thank you for letting me sit here." Then he rolls his eyes upward at his own words. "Oh listen to me, where are my manners." He gives a smile and sticks out a hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you. My name is Mr. Cox."

************************************************************************************

Hey, hey, hey! Getting good huh? So how did you like the chapter? Do you like where the story is heading? Do you want me to stick with first person narrative or switch back to third person? Please send feedback and tell me! 

   PS: You have **_no_** idea how much fun it was to right the segment with Broots. Was that funny or what?

             Talk to you soon!


	3. Silence

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this. If I did, I wouldn't be writing **_fan_** fiction now would I? Logic people!

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **One of Lia's secrets becomes known as she unknowingly travels with the infamous Mr. Cox. Broots finds out what would actually happen in the nightmares he's always had, and Astrea discovers that something needs to be done about her 'animal' side. 

**Feedback:** (When last we left Shadow Elf, she was on the wrong end of a blaster being held by a very PO'd stormtrooper. Her mind is now scrambling frantically for a way out, but luckily someone interferes…)

   "Look, buddy, you really don't want to shoot me. I mean, think about it. You could go to jail, or, or um, uh…." [She falls to her knees and closes her eyes, nearly sobbing uncontrollably] "Please don't kill me!"

   (Suddenly the door to the store they're out in front of opens and a little green man with a cane comes out and sees what's going on. He raises his arm and then waves it, and the stormtrooper is struck by an invisible force and after hitting a wall, is knocked unconscious.)

   [Opening her eyes] "Is it over? Am I dead yet?"

Yoda: Dead you are not. Saved you have I.

   [She sighs in relief and stands up, ready to thank her savior. She looks around, and sees no one.] "Huh? Hey where are you?"

Yoda: [rolls his eyes] Down here am I! Blind are you hmm?

   [She raises her eyebrows.] "Oh. Sorry. Didn't see you."

Yoda: Apparent that is. [He looks over her and furrows his brows] Strange creature you are. 

   [Crosses her arms indignantly] "This from a three foot tall green furby?

**Quote: **

      ** "The power of accurate observation is frequently called cynicism by those who don't have it." **--George Bernard Shaw

**********************************_ShadowElfBard_****************************************

8:55 AM, Tuesday

Jessup, Maryland

Woods Behind Astrea's Home

**(Astrea)**

   I yawn and rub my eyes as I fully rise from sleep. Last night was weird…I don't even feel like I slept all that I need to. I know I went home early last night, and went straight to bed, so why do I still feel so tired? Ah, who knows. It'll be just another mystery to solve once I'm done with breakfast. 

   I grin at the thought and move to roll out of bed, when I feel the ground move out from under me.

   I let out a yelp and dig my claws into what I believe is the wood of my bed's frame as I hang on for dear life, wondering what the heck is going on.

   I fully open my eyes, and then my mouth drops open so wide that I resemble a fish as it gasps for water. I can't believe it, this isn't happening. Now way am I where I think I am right now. It's just a dream I'm really not here, I'm in my bed, I'm under the covers… But no. It's true. I'm really where I think I am.

   I'm in a tree. 

   I scramble my way back up onto the branch, and sit on the limb, looking down below me, then searching up above me. Yep, I'm in a tree all right. A big, giant, tall tree. What I'm doing in a tree and not in my bed is anybody's guess. But I do know one thing for certain. 

   Something has to be done about my animal side, because it's clearly not going to be ignored…

9:13 AM, Tuesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Pursuit Team's Main Office

**(Ms. Parker)**

I stroll into the office, thoroughly aggravated. If I took a potshot at every person who'd cheerily smiled at me this morning and asked how I was feeling, half the Centre employees would be dead. And all because I took yesterday off. Is that so damn hard to believe? Is it hard to comprehend that I might actually **_hate _**my job? That I might loathe every stinking moment of my life that I have to spend here? I would think that it was common knowledge by now.

   I start towards the computer, ready to shake Broots up a bit, and notice that the chair is empty. I stop dead in my tracks; a thousand worries running through my mind.

   Something happened to him. Is he dead? Did Lyle kill him? Is he sick? Does Sydney know? There is no way on god's good earth that Broots would be late to the Centre if he were okay. His fear of the reprimands is too strong.

   Just then Sydney walks in, side by side with my evil half. It looks like Syd's just arrived also. We make eye contact and he furrows his brow in concern at my expression. Then he glances to Broots desk and his eyes widen. I give a barely perceptible nod, and my idiot brother keeps talking, not noticing anything that goes on between us. As usual. 

    "And so dad said…" Lyle stops, finally realizing that we weren't listening. He looks over to where our eyes seem glued, and then gives a slow grin.

   I snap my head towards him, noticing his look that so obviously screams, 'I-know-something-you-don't'. 

    I raise a finely curved eyebrow, my blue eyes chilling and dangerous. "Where. Is. Broots?"

   He shrugs, his hands in his pockets. "How should I know?" Still he keeps on the mocking smile.  

   If only I had a crow bar… I walk towards him, smoothly, purposely, but he doesn't twitch a muscle. I'm right in front of him now, my lips barely inches away from his. "I'm only going to ask you once more **_brother_**." I glare at him in hatred. "Where is my technician?"

   Sydney is behind me, a wall of stone, but I can see the fury he's trying to keep hidden. He knows just as well as I do that Lyle had something to do with Broots disappearance.

   Lyle suddenly takes on a look of exaggerated surprise. "Oh you haven't heard?"

   "Heard what?" I ground out, not wanting to play this game anymore. If I don't find out what happened in the next two minutes he's going to lose another appendage. And I'll be sure it's not his thumb.

   But luckily for my psycho of a family member, he gives me an answer. "Your technician has been removed from the pursuit team," he says casually. "Triumvate's orders. Last I heard he was put up for auction. I received it in the memo's last week." He looks into my eyes, and I see a sick pleasure taken from my shocked reaction. "Didn't you know?"

    I set my jaw, not wanting him to see how much the news has affected me. "Mine must have been misplaced." I say through clenched teeth, knowing full well that I didn't know because they didn't give me one. Auctions for employees are announced a week in advance, and Broots would have been freaked by it, so they must have chosen not to mention it to him either. 

   Lyle's grin just gets wider and he rests his gloved hand on my shoulder in a concerned facade. I am repulsed by his touch, but manage to stand still. "Oh, don't fret sis. Your precious Broots had nearly thirteen different higher-ups bidding on him, including me. I'm sure your puppy went to a good home."

   It takes every amount of self-control I possess in me not to rip off his arm and bash in his skull with it. I'm about to respond, when the door to the office opens.

   All three of us look over to see who's entered.

   A mousy looking woman stands there, wearing glasses, a blouse, and a skirt that shouts Wal-mart clearance. She's holding to her chest a file filled with various papers and hanging loosely on her shoulder is a pathetic excuse for a purse. I wonder if she's Broots girlfriend.

   She gives a timid smile and for a moment I'm not entirely sure that she won't drop her things and run out of the room in a mad terror. But she manages to draw up what little courage she must have in that frail looking body and speaks.

   "H-Hi. Um, I was sent here by the director…he uh, he said that I'll be joining the um, team. I'm the new technician. My name's Marie." She sticks out a hand.

   Sydney shows a look of pity, and Lyle and I exchange a look that's part bafflement and amusement. 

   Marie notices that no one will be shaking her hand and she lowers it and bites her lip.

   Poor girl, she's in for a rough ride.

   Lyle saunters up to her, that mischievous look in his eyes, and I have to keep from rolling mine. He steps right by her side. "So, you're the new tech huh?" he purrs.

   Marie flushes a shade of crimson, and she bites back a smile. "Mmhmm." Is all she manages to say as she wrings her hands.

   Lyle grins. "I think we'll get along just fine." He winks at me and then places his hands in his pockets as he begins walking out. "See you sis. "

    "See you bro." I say with a sickeningly sweet tone. I want to kill him. I want to kill him sooo badly.

   Marie watches him go, swooned already by my senseless twin's charm. I doubt she'd adore him if she found out he's sinned so much that if he stuck his hands in holy water he'd burn himself. But hey, I'll let the girl keep her dreams.

   The new tech turns back to me, the blush leaving slowly from her face. "You're brother and sister? You two must really be close huh?"

   My eye twitches and I have to keep from gagging. Sydney covers for me though telling her that my brother and I share a "special" relationship.

   I finally regain my composure, and begin processing what it was my twin told me. Broots has been fired from the pursuit team, he's been auctioned, to whom I don't know, and now I'm stuck with a schoolgirl geek who probably doesn't know the difference between lip gloss and lip stick. I hate Tuesdays. 

   "So Ms. Parker," Marie says slowly, intimidated by all of the stories that float around about me. "Wh-What should I do first?"

   "Well since you obviously aren't going to **_leave_**, I suppose you better start hacking into the Centre mainframe."

   I'm not sure which comment surprises her more. But then the order I've given sinks in and she blanches. 

   "Are you crazy?" she asks with wide, frightened eyes. "Hack into the Centre mainframe?"

   That's it. Time to get this girl to understand how I do things. I walk over to her, my eyes carrying tiny flames inside of them. With each step I take she backs up one, until she's up against the wall with a tiny bead of sweat on her forehead. 

   "One; never call me crazy. The doc and me are most assuredly the only two people you are likely to meet here who **_are _**sane. Second; you work for me. You are now loyal only to me. That means that you listen to me only, not Lyle, not Raines, not even my father. You got that?" She gives a timid nod and I back up a step and fold my arms, allowing her a small space of breathing room. "Good. Now, what's the problem with breaking into the Centre mainframe?"

   She swallows and I tell with pleasure that she now understands her place in the hierarchy. I may have been tough on the rag doll, but better she learn it from me rather than my brother. 

   "The, the problem with hacking into the…" she's obviously having trouble grasping the concept of someone asking her to break into the mainframe because she can't even seem to say the words. 

   "The Centre mainframe?" I supply snidely.

   "Yes ma'm. The problem is that…I can't."

   "What do you mean, 'you can't'?"

   "I-I don't know how." She begins to cringe again my hand goes to my forehead as I feel another migraine coming on. 

   "How can you not know how to hack into the mainframe? My last tech was able to do it within minutes." I growl at her, still trying to hold back the headache.

   She looks amazed at my comment. "Wow really? Gosh you must have had a really talented technician to be able to do that. I don't know any other techs here that can." Her eyes seem to sparkle. "I'd like to have met him…"

   I think I've just met Broots' soul mate. 

   "Look, rag doll, I need to find someone. You were sent here to work with computers. Find them for me." My eyes narrow. "Now."

   She blinks. "But my job description said that I'm supposed to search for Jar-"

   My anger flares up. "Who do you work for?"

   "But I-"

   "Who. Do. You. Work. For?"

   She sighs. "You."

   "You're catching on. His name is Broots. He was my previous technician and he's just been auctioned off. Find out who he went to. Sydney and I are leaving. When we return, I expect results." 

    She opens her mouth to protest but when I raise my eyebrow, she shuts up and then shuffles her way over to the computer.

   Sydney and I walk out and enter the hall.

   "Did you really have to be so harsh on the girl Ms. Parker? She's just learning how things work."

   I keep my steady stride, and don't even look at him as I answer. "And I was just teaching her Freud. Now, let's go. I swear if I have to tear up the sub levels searching for Broots then so be it." My eyes become fiery with determination and fury. "Like I've said before Sydney, he may be an idiot, but he's **_my _**idiot. And there's no way in hell, heaven, or earth that they're going to take him away from me."

9:15 AM, Tuesday

Just Leaving Nevada

On A Bus

**(Lia)**

Last night, I did something I hadn't planned on doing during my trip. I am different from others in many ways, but only two are truly important. I'd thought to try and keep both of them a secret while on my little journey, one because of embarrassment and the second out of need. I'd ended up telling Mr. Cox about one of them last night. 

**FLASHBACK  **

"My name is Mr. Cox." He said, holding out his hand.

   It's such a simple gesture really, a way to greet someone, but it frightens me. Thoughts of worry run rampant in my mind. What should I do? Should I take his hand and shake it? Should I ignore it? Should I pretend to faint or something? I stare up at him, past his glasses into his eyes. He doesn't seem to have any ill feelings towards me, he just sees this as one stranger meeting another.

   I'm still racing to make a decision, and notice that he's furrowing his brow in confusement at my hesitation. I then make my choice and do the only thing I can to tell him of my secret.

   I sign to him.

   Yes, one of my secrets is that I'm mute. I keep it secret when I can out of a fear of people's reactions. I am afraid that I'll be seen as somehow sub human. This isn't paranoia; I've received the reaction before. I also have always feared that someone would take advantage of me because of it. While mothers usually warned their young children not to talk to strangers, I was warned not to show them I couldn't talk. My parents were always afraid that someone would try to kidnap or hurt me, because I couldn't scream for help. But the thing I think I've always feared above all else, that has always been the major factor when I decide to keep my muteness a secret, is fear of pity. I neither want nor deserve sympathy, and it pains me to no end to see others go as silent as I am once they find out. They never know how to respond, they become uncomfortable, they look at me and see a charity fund. But above all else, they leave. Such is the price of not having a voice. You'll have to forgive me if my decision to it a secret does not seem solidly based.

   Mr. Cox just stares at me a moment with wide eyes, then a slow smile creeps onto his face. He then does the most unpredictable thing he could do.

   He signs back.

   My mouth widens in shock. You know sign language? 

   He nods. "Yes I do. One of the requirements of my job is to be multi-lingual. Sign language has always been an interesting form of communication." He then grins once more. "Now may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

   And I told him. And I began to talk with him, about meaningless things. The weather, sports, books, music, favorite foods and my thoughts of the future. 

**END FLASHBACK **

You probably have no idea how much it meant to me that there was someone who could listen to what **_I _**had to say, to add and contribute upon **_my _**thoughts and feelings. I'd had my parents yes, but it had been hard for them to learn the language, and even then a teen needs someone they can tell things to besides their parents. Friends I made never really understood what I was signing, and most gave up on trying to learn. I'd signed with others like me in some of my segregated classes that had been for kids with a physical disability, but many times the conversations I had were depressing. The other thirteen year olds were many times bitter and too far-gone in self-pity and resentment to actually befriend me. For if they could not like themselves, how could they like someone else? 

    I guess I'd been one of the lucky ones. 

   So now, now that I'd met someone who could understand me clearly and concisely who was not put off by my muteness, I was elated. And when he told me that he was traveling to Los Angeles as well, and in the same area that I was heading to, I wondered if perhaps there was someone up above looking out for me. 

9:17 AM, Tuesday

Jessup, Maryland

Woods Behind Astrea's home

(Astrea)

   I'm walking back to my house at the moment, thoroughly confused as to what happened, fearing that I may already know the answer, and trying to find a pretend that will keep me calm as I sort through my thoughts.

   I take on the pretend of a cat, and find that my mood is much more relaxed and my movement languid as I slowly move through the woods, following the scent of my previous travel to the tree. 

   I have theories on what happened, and the one that I'm trying to avoid, but know that is probably true, is that my animal side is indeed getting stronger. How, that's the one thing I have no explanation for. I scratch behind my ear as I ponder the predicament and then stop walking.

   Odd, do my ears feel longer than normal?

   I slowly lower my hand. No, it couldn't be. There's no reason that- then I see my hand, and my eyes nearly bulge out of my sockets. My pretend forgotten, I look at my legs, my belly, my arm, and notice the exact same thing on all of them.

   Lightly, very lightly, is a pattern upon my once flawless pale skin.

   Stripes. 

   Very light and hardly noticeable tiger-style stripes.

   Oh S--t. 

   I begin running towards my house, forgetting the previous desire I had to stay calm. There was no time to stay calm. There's only one way that those patterns could be there, and I need to contact Jarod immediately.

   Pronto.

   ASAP.

   **_Now._**

   I make it to the house and about to fling open the door when a strange scent enters my nose. I freeze immediately, and my body tenses. A low and dangerous growl rises in the back of my throat.

   There is someone in my home.

   I carefully and methodically stalk towards the door. If it's a Centre sweeper, they're going to wish that they hadn't been assigned to this house. 

   I push open the door cautiously and when I spot a man standing in the middle of the hallway I am taken over by my transformation. I run at him, and tackle him to the ground while he lets out a surprised squeak. I'm now sitting on top of him, my arms pinning him down.

   "All right who sent you her-" I stop and then realize that he's not a sweeper. He has brown hair, neatly combed, wide scared chestnut eyes, a strong chin, and is wearing glasses, slacks, and a green sweater.

   As my mouth gapes open he gives a small, nervous smile. "Erm, hello there." 

   I blink.

   He wets his lips. "Would you be so terribly kind as to get off of me now?"

10:26 PM, Tuesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Raines Office

**(Broots)**

 I gaze around the room where I'm working in sorrow. Ever since yesterday things have been getting progressively worse.

   Surprise, surprise.

   It still seems like a horrible nightmare at times, but I'm reminded of its reality every time Raines enters the room. I think the scariest periods I've experienced at the Centre have been whenever I was in the presence of Raines or Lyle. I went out of my way to avoid them, to remain invisible to their sight. They frightened me to no end, and still do for that matter. 

   Only now it's ten times worse. 

   I have to work for one of them. 

   In their private office. 

   And no one can save me.

   I had to contact an old friend of mine yesterday, out of necessity. I'd just become situated, and Mr. Raines had wheeled in, accompanied by Willie. Willie and I have never really had any problem with each other, heck, I'm not sure we've ever exchanged a complete sentence. But I think he respects me, in some weird way, for my friendship with Astrea, and how I've managed to stay alive working for the Centre for so long. When he came in with Raines, the sweeper had given me a brief look of pity, even understanding. It had felt like an odd welcoming of one inmate to another. Which it should have been if you think about it.

   After all, we're both in the same boat now.

   So Raines had come in, and told me very simply what was going to happen. And I couldn't help but feel like the words he said were an epitaph. In an almost twisted form of irony, his words were vaguely the same words that Ms. Parker had said during the first meeting I had or so with her. 

    "You are loyal to me, and to me only. Your life is in my hands, and should I want to I can take it away from you. Your allegiance to me will last so long as you work here, and I have no doubt that it will be for a very, very long time."

   I had wondered briefly if anyone else had felt the chill in the room. 

   Then he'd told me the basics. I would work in his office, in his plain view of sight. I would create encoding programs, algorithms, security programs, and from time to time he'd have me search for and retrieve data off of the mainframe and such. I was also not to contact anyone without his permission while in the Centre, and he'd told me so ominously that he'd know if I did. The last thing he'd told me told me, was that my work hours were from seven in the morning, until he saw fit.

   I'd protested against this, though meekly, and told him that I had a daughter who would need to be watched and looked after, and that those hours would be hard for any babysitter to work under.

   He'd glared at me for a moment, angry I think at the mere fact that I'd speak against an order of his, but then he'd smiled, and that small, almost insignificant expression, had froze my very soul.

    "If you can't find a sitter for your charming fourteen-year old daughter Debbie, Mr. Broots, then I am certain that I could find someone to watch over her here at the Centre. Perhaps someone who works below in the sub-levels. They usually have a lot of time on their hands, and would love a change of pace."

   It had been more terrifying in that moment than when I'd first been told of my new job. I'd understood, with sickening clarity, what every implication and hidden message in his words had been. They knew all about my daughter, just as they knew all about me. And if he had to he would make it so that she'd remain in the sublevels from the time she got home from school until the time my work was over. 

   And she'd be watched over by his people. 

   That in itself had been enough to scare me into calling up a high school buddy, and beg him to watch Debbie until I could come up with an alternate solution.

   I think that I'll be thanking the lord until the day I die that he'd said yes.

   I spin my chair around slightly, gazing past Raines large desk that is only three feet away from my small desk and computer set up, as I hear the door opening. When I hear the squeaking of wheels however, I turn around so fast that for a millisecond the world is a blur. 

   I begin busily typing once more, focusing on the code sequence for a program that he's requested, and try to ignore the sounds of his footsteps as they walk to my corner steadily. My hands begin to shake and I accidentally hit a wrong key. I delete the mistake and struggle to maintain my composure as I resume the sequence, but every muscle in my body tenses and every motion I make freezes, when Raines lays his hand upon my quivering shoulder.

   After what seems like an eternity of struggle, I manage to will myself to turn around and face him. 

   I stare up at him, at his cold cruel eyes, his grim expression, and I am forced to lower my gaze as I force out a submissive, "what is it sir?"

   He simply hands me a paper and I take it from him wordlessly. I then scan the information speedily, and my eyes widen.

   "Y-You want me to create a cipher with a 132 bit strength? That's, that's nearly impossible. The NSA's best encryption people have bits that only go up to about 126, and they have **_teams_** that work on that kind of stuff! It'd be unattainable for any single code writer. "

   "But perfectly doable for **_you_** Mr. Broots." He raises a hand to stop my objections. "Do not try to deny it. We have evidence of codes near that strength that you have created for Ms. Parker." He turns. "I'll expect it by tomorrow night." 

   "B-But sir this will take hours upon hours of work!" I cry in near desperation.

   He turns slightly. "Then I suppose it is lucky for you that you have the opportunity to work on it all night and into the morning should you need to."

   My mouth is clamped shut and my eyes are large as I watch him go. I sit in a stunned silence as the sweeper opens the door for him, and then closes it after they're through. I'm aware of the faint sound of clicking, and then realize that he's locked the door.  

   I sit there a moment longer, comprehending that this is one more night that I have to spend away from my daughter, one more night that I am to give up sleep, one more night that I will spend working to meet the demands of a demon.

   I am locked in, and the door was shut before my hope could fully enter the room.

   I'm beginning to understand why Astrea always wanted to be ignored at the Centre.

   I'm beginning to understand what Jarod felt when locked in the sublevels.

   I'm beginning to understand the true meaning of hell.

   And the painful understanding of it all brings tears to my eyes that, like everything else it seems, I am powerless to stop as I turn around slowly and go back to work.

************************************************************************************

Sorry to those of you who were expecting more humor on Broots' part, but I need to get across how utterly frightening it is for him to have to work under Raines without the protection that Ms. Parker once gave him. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and eagerly await any feedback that you might give me. 

   ---talk to you later!


	4. The First Domino Falls

**Disclaimer:** Not own this do I. Know I do not why say it over and over I must.

**Rating:** PG-13, you know the drill by now.****

**Summary: **The first domino falls...

**Feedback:** (The stormtrooper from before has gone to Lord Vader to explain why he was found knocked out against a wall. Poor guy, I sympathize with him already.)

Vader: So you were attempting to destroy a seemingly random alien when she apparently knocked you unconscious? With her 'magic powers'?

Stormtrooper: Yes sir. But it wasn't my fault; really, she must be some powerful Jedi or something.

Vader: Oh, I know it wasn't your fault. Don't worry, I believe you.

Stormtrooper: [sighs in relief]

Vader: Not!

  (The stormtrooper is then duly killed by the dark side of the force.)

Vader: [Chuckles] I love doing that…

**Quote:**

                 **"Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake." **

**                     ---**Napoleon Bonaparte 

*************************************_ShadowElfBard_*************************************

10:27 AM, Tuesday

Jessup, Maryland

Astrea's Home

**(Astrea)**

   I jump off of the man and back up a step or two, barely managing to keep my animal side under control. The man then stands up and dusts off his pants. He looks over at me a bit embarrassed, and then scratches the back of his head nervously.

   "I truly am terribly sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused you. I know how dreadfully conspicuous this must seem to you, coming home to find a gent like me in your hallway…"

   He babbles on, but I just stare at him, forming my own conclusions about whom he is. He's British, of that there's no doubt, and he seems to be a librarian or bookkeeper of sorts. Judging from the suitcases behind him, he was looking for a place to stay, just as I was. I am willing to bet that he came to a home he thought abandoned, as I had, and hadn't known that someone had already taken up residency.

   "…After all I hadn't actually **_known _**that this lovely home was occupied. So, I again apologize profusely, and will now take my leave."

   I raise a hand. "No, no it's alright. You can stay."

   He pauses. "I-I can what?"

   "There are more than fifteen or sixteen extra rooms in this home, I'm sure one of them will suit you. As long as you can find your own way to pay for your meals and such, you can live here. I don't mind."

   He opens his mouth slightly, in a bit of shock. "But what about your parents? Would it be all right by them?"

   I almost wince. "Um well, I don't live with any. I live by myself."

   "Oh." He seems to be searching for how to phrase his next question correctly. "Is that um…is that legal here in the states?"

    "Actually no."

   "Ah. I see." He scratches his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I suppose I would have to turn you in to the authorities then, but…it really isn't the place of a foreigner like myself to be enforcing American laws now is it?"

   I smile. I think I like this guy. "No I suppose not." I stick out a hand. "My name's Astrea by the way."

   He returns my smile and shakes my hand. "Arthur, Arthur Norman."

   "Well Arthur, why don't we discuss what you were doing looking for an unoccupied freebee home over coffee?"

   He nods. "I'd like that. But…you wouldn't happen to have any tea would you?"

   "I'm sure I can find some." I head into the little kitchen area, telling him that he can take a seat at the table, (an item I found at a thrift store down the road) and then after making the drinks, bring them out and set them down, taking a seat as I do so.

   I begin drinking my coffee, once again relishing in the subtle variations of taste, the warmth in my mouth, the flavors as they dance upon my tongue…

   He stares at me with a total look of confusion, watching with wide eyes as I tilt back my head and gulp down what's left in the mug. Then I wipe off some that had gotten on my chin with a sleeve and smile at him, not noticing how shakily he sips his tea.

   "So, Arthur, what brings you here?" 

   He clears his throat. "Well, um I had just moved here, to the US that is, about oh, two months ago from a small, very small, apartment in Wales. I don't know why. Perhaps I was just looking for a new life from my rather dull one I had when I worked as a clerk at an antique bookstore. Only, upon arrival, I couldn't find a job, and discovered that prices were much higher here than my previous home. I'd been traveling for a while, staying at various hotels, and when I came upon this large estate and did some research on its previous owners…well, I figured that it would serve as a nice abode until I was able to find another residence and some form of employment." He takes another sip. "What's your story?" 

   Now, I am going to have to pause and warn you about something here. I have not lived out on my own for as long as Jarod has. I do not know what I am supposed to tell people when they ask about my past. So, keep that in mind. I'm not an idiot, just ill prepared.

    "Me? Oh, well I'm a genius orphan who was taken to a secret multinational corporation when I was about one and was raised by a bald, evil man with a breathing problem who ran tests and experiments on me and made it so that I now have many traits similar to animals, predators in particular. About a month and a half ago I was sent to find another genius that had escaped the building but when I found him I wanted to let him go free. But, as luck would have it, I was being followed by some of their agents so they caught us both and brought us back, but later on we escaped again and we split up. I found this home approximately a week ago."

   He blinks once or twice with gaping eyes. Then he takes another sip of tea. "My word, the US certainly is different from England…" 

   I shrug. "Not all of it. Only in Blue Cove, Delaware."   

   "Oh. I stopped there you know. I **_thought_** it had been too pleasant a town." He then narrows his eyes at something, as if noticing it for the first time. "Do you know that you have pointy ears?"

11:04 AM, Tuesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Pursuit Team's Main Office

Sydney's Desk

**(Sydney) **

I run a hand through my gray hair and sigh as I stare down at the work in front of me. I'm not able to concentrate right now, not fully. There is too much happening, too many thoughts and feelings that are distracting me. 

    Ms. Parker and I have been searching all morning, and we still have not found any sign of Broots. The new technician has not been doing much better, and I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps Ms. Parker and I took Broots' talent with a computer for granted. I hope my friend is all right, if only for his daughter.

   But Broots is not he one who is occupying my thoughts at the moment. No, I'm more worried about my protégé. Jarod still has not contacted us and I'm beginning to wonder if he's all right or not. Jarod is nothing if not resourceful and brilliant, but in the condition he is right now it could be very easy for him to make a mistake, especially if he is watching over the other pretender Elf 17. 

   I know that Jarod and I have never truly been close, though I fervently wish it were otherwise. Our relationship is more than just former teacher and pupil, and I would be a naïve fool to suggest otherwise. Jarod is more of a son to me than Nicholas will ever be, but there is also a rift between us that is too far to cross, at least at the moment. 

   I know Jarod still has much resentment for the fact that I took part in the project and allowed all of those horrible things to be done to a child who just wanted to see his parents. I do not blame him for the bitterness though; in fact I think that I would be angry if he put it all behind him. Yes I may have taken over the project to keep him from Raines, but I should have done more. I could have done more. During that time a small part of me had wanted to keep him at the Centre, and had truly believed that this was his home. I don't know if it was loneliness or a scientific interest, but I curse myself nearly every day for the fact that that had truly been a part of how I'd felt. I think if given the choice back then, I would have wanted to let him go, but I am certain that the decision would be hard to make.

   My phone starts ringing and I sigh and pick it up.

   "Hello? This is Dr. Green speaking."

   "Hello Sydney."

   My breath catches in my throat. "Jarod? Is that you?"

   "Yeah, it's me."

   I go and close the door, wanting to make sure that I am the only one who knows of this call. "Jarod are you all right? We've all been worried about you."

   He laughs. "I find it hard to believe that Ms. Parker would be worried about me Sydney. If she is she's only protecting her ticket out of the Centre. "

   "Jarod you of all people know that's not true." I chastise softly. 

   I hear him sigh. "I know. But sometimes it's hard not to think otherwise."

   We go silent for a moment, but Jarod picks up the conversation. "So Sydney, how are things in hell? Anything odd going on? Besides the usual of course."

    "Well yesterday Ms. Parker saw Raines doing the Macarena in his boxers."

   The other side of the line goes deathly quiet and I laugh outright. 

   "Jarod it's a joke!" 

   He gives a hesitant chuckle. "Don't scare me Sydney. But really, is there nothing going on?"

   Should I tell him? I suppose it's only right, after all he'd find out sooner or later…"Jarod, Broots is missing."

   I hear a sharp intake of breath. "Missing? Is his daughter all right? Do you have any suspicions? What-"

   "Jarod calm down. It's nothing so serious as far as we know. In the technical sense he's not truly missing. We know he's still working at the Centre but he was auctioned off a day or so ago and we can't find out whom to. "

   "They took him off of the pursuit team?" For a moment I could swear that he was relieved by the news. "Why?"

   I massage my forehead. "Apparently they believe that our current failure in the discovery of Elf 17's and your location is his fault. He was on suspicion of having helped you two out before, and they thought this the best course of action."

   There is a thoughtful silence on the other end. "Hmm. Well Sydney, you know that no matter how close we are that this is still a hunt, I'm still the prey, and I won't willingly jeopardize my freedom."

   "Yes, I know." 

   "Then you know that I won't give you my location or any other clues. I'm think that what got me caught last time was the games I played. I'm not risking it again Sydney. The only thing I'll promise you is that I won't disappear off of the face of the earth-- yet."

   "I suppose that's more than I should ask for, but…" I wonder how he'll take this. "Could you at least help us find out where he was sent? You needn't try to get him back on the team, I know that he is a danger to you, but we worry about him. He has a daughter as you well know, and Ms. Parker and I aren't capable of a computer search such as this one, so we'd like your help in at least giving us the name of who he's working for now. "

   I hear a conceding sigh. "All right Sydney. I can do that much for you. I'll get it to you by e-mail."

   "Jar-" I say, knowing that he'll hang up, but I am too late and hear the buzzing dial tone of a severed connection. 

   I turn off the phone, and gaze with sad and troubled eyes into nothingness.

   "How have they been able to hurt you so much my pupil, that you now cling to survival instead of your feelings?" I close my eyes. "How have they been able to break you spirit?"

  But of course, silence is the only reply I receive.

1:16 PM, Tuesday

Jessup, Maryland

Astrea's Home

**(Astrea)**

I smile at Arthur, watching from the doorway of his new room he unpacks his belongings. I wonder if I should have told him all that I did…most likely it was a bad move, secrecy always tends to be the safest course of action where these sorts of things are involved, but the past is unchangeable. Besides, I will be leaving the home soon enough should Jarod choose to help me. He won't be in any danger.

   I turn and begin walking down the hall to the stairs when he calls out to me.

   "One moment Astrea! "

   I look back and see that he's come out of his room with a small wooden box neatly tucked under his arm. 

   "Yes?" I ask calmly, a bit curious as to what the box holds. 

   "Are you involved in anything at he moment?"

   I give a small smile. "Afraid so. I have to call a friend of mine who can help me with a…problem that I've been having."

   "Oh." His face falls a bit but he tries his best to keep it from showing. His efforts aren't too good.

   "Why? Is there something you wanted me to do?"

   He wets his lips. "Nothing too terribly important but I had just been wondering, if it wouldn't be to much trouble, could you play me in a game of chess?"

   "Chess?" I'm baffled.

   His mouth gapes open.  "Don't tell me you have never played the revered and nearly holy English game of chess! I can believe the story of your past but…to never have played chess?! It's incomprehensible! "

   Now I'm intrigued. I begin to turn away from the stairs. "Is it really that good a game?"

   He chuckles, a soft and pleasant sound. "It's all that and more my dear."

    I bite my lip. "Well I suppose I could try it…"

   He raises a hand. "Oh no. There's no 'supposing' about it! You **_must_** play. If not for the experience than for my own sanity."

   "All right." I say with a laugh. "I'll play. Do you have a rule book on it?"

   He nods his head with a grin. "Yes." He starts to go down the stairs, waving a hand for me to follow. "I think we should play in the dining room, don't you? It'll be much more pleasant. Now, as to the game itself, don't be disappointed if you don't win right off. I'm a very skilled player and have much more experience than you…"

   I nod my head and only half-listen as he babbles on. Hmm. Should I really play this right now? Maybe I should call Jarod first… but no. He's survived this long; he'll still be there when the game is over. 

**Forty-five minutes and five games later…**

   "Five times! You've beaten me five times in a row!" Arthur says aghast.

   I grin at him. "Well the manual helped a lot."

   "How could it have helped?! You read it once and then knew the game and its possible strategies like the back of your own hand." He shakes his head. "You most certainly were English in a past life."

   I roll my eyes upward and then stand up from the chair, holding out a hand as I do so. "Thank you for teaching me about the game."

   He takes it and gives a firm shake. "And thank you for the challenge. I don't think I've ever had a more talented opponent. Were I wearing one, I'd take my hat off to you."

   I give him a kind look and then make my way over the kitchen counter where I keep the cell phone I bough two weeks ago. I have Jarod's number on speed dial and push the button. Behind me Arthur begins putting away the chess game, and I'm about to ask him to go into another room while I make the call, but just then Jarod answers the phone.

   "Hello Astrea." He says calmly, evenly.

   I tisk into the phone playfully. "You know Jarod, one of these days you're going to have to tell the pursuit team that you always know who's calling because you have a Caller ID."

   I hear him laugh, a sound that reassures some of my fears as to how he's doing. "And give up my secret? Never."

   I smile, even though I know he can't see it. But then I refocus myself on why I'm calling and my voice drops to a solemn tone. "Jarod, I need your help."

   "You're not the only one." he scoffs lightly.

   I pause in confusion, about to ask him about what he means, but shake it off out of necessity. "Jarod, I…I have suspicions about something of a rather sensitive nature. Something that is affecting me greatly."

   "Go on." He says slowly, sensing how serious I am about this topic.

   "You know more or less what I am right? You know what makes me different from a normal pretender?" 

   I can almost see him nod as he answers affirmatively.

   "It's about the cells that were injected into my system. The thing that made is possible for me to become a feral pretender was that those cells, mixed with a certain chemical, began to reproduce and either they adjusted to my body or my body adjusted to them, I'm not totally sure which. I know that it also couldn't have been done if I wasn't a pretender. But my point is, that when Raines felt like enough cells were actively participating and changing my body and mind, he injected a counter-chemical to stop the cells from reproducing at the alarming rate they had been before. They almost stopped altogether."

   I hear a quick intake of breath, as I know that he's figured out what I'm going to say. "No, no it's not, it can't be happening."

   I sigh. "It is. Jarod…the cells are active again. They're reproducing once more. And if something isn't done then I'm going to become more dangerous than any of us would have thought possible." I close my eyes. "More than any of us want to think possible."  
  


3:48 PM, Tuesday

Los Angeles, California

On A Bus

**(Lia)**

   "All right, final stop! Now get off of my bus!" The driver yells back at the passengers jokingly.

   Some of the people laugh, but most just grab their things and start moving to get off.

   Mr. Cox smiles at me, and holds out his hand once more, like he had when we'd first met. I smile and take it this time, not apprehensively but with assurance.

   "It was a pleasure meeting you young lady. I hope that whatever you came here to do runs smoothly for you."

   I let go of his hand. Thank-you, I hope that you're business here runs smoothly as well.    

   He nods his head and after grabbing his things, leaves the bus. 

   I pick up my backpack and sling it over my shoulder, then grab my denim jacket. I smile my thanks at the bus driver, who promptly grins back at me and wishes me a good stay.

   I stand at the bus stop, a sidewalk corner, and just gape at all that's around me as the bus drives off. This place is **_huge_**. There are buildings taller than any building should be. There are also people. Lots and lots of people. Everywhere. All around me. I'm almost assaulted by the sheer number as they walk past me on the sidewalk. 

   I hadn't known there would be this many. It might be a problem. Maybe I should… No! I came here to do a job. I'll leave after I find my sister, but only then. I can deal with a crowd or two. It'll be okay. 

   I suck in a deep breath, trying to become confident, and begin steadily moving down the sidewalk. Then I stop. Um, where am I going again? I reach into my backpack and draw out a map. After I look at the name of the location I'm heading to, that I'd written down on the side, I start trying to place where I am. 

   I finally figure out that the building I'm searching for is only three or four blocks away. I grin and start moving again, not needing to fake confidence, and head towards the only place that might know where my sister is. 

**_Twenty-five minutes later…_**

Three or four blocks is longer than I remember them being. Maybe measurements are different in California. My friends always told me things were bigger and brighter in Hollywood, but I never believed them. Shows how much a country girl knows I guess.

   After wiping some sweat from my forehead and repositioning the bag on my bag in an effort to keep it from rubbing my raw skin, I look around me and then spot the building I've been searching for only ten yards away.  I let out a sigh of pure relief and make my way over.

   There are lots of people, all dressed really formally. None of them seem truly bad, though maybe a bit scared, but I still get a twinge of worry nonetheless. 

   Everyone seems to be wearing black or dark blue, though I do spot one woman wearing a red suit. Hmm. This seems more like a corporation than an orphanage. The only thing that's keeping me from thinking that I've come to the wrong place is the sign out front and the small fenced off playground. Maybe they're a Catholic orphanage or something and the kids wear uniforms. Won't know until I go in I suppose.

   I swallow and then chide myself for it. There's nothing to be afraid of! You've already checked for dangers remember? So what if the employees are scared? I would be too if I had to earn a paycheck. Besides, it's probably just nervousness you feel coming off of them, not fear.

   I walk up the outside steps towards the doorway and receive carefully guarded but still evident looks of surprise. I bit my lip and keep my head down, beginning to feel afraid again. My ever-present voice of reason then once again patronizing me for being so jumpy. There's probably a reason for the looks. They must not be used to seeing children coming into a place like this by themselves. Stop being so paranoid!

   I walk through the doors and stroll right up to the front desk, about to try and grab the attention from the lady behind it, when a conversation that's steadily nearing me catches my attention.

   I look and see that the doors that lead back to the orphans rooms and the orphanage's supply area are being opened, and two men are coming out.

   "Well sir I am glad to see that your trip went all right."

   "It was just a bus ride. I swear you and the Triumvate think that I can't go anywhere without being surrounded by sweepers. Is it too much to want to go somewhere where I can have a little personal space?"

   "Not to me sir, but with the Triumvate well…" the man chuckles. "That's another story."

   Beside him the "sir" joins in the laughter. "Quite so."

   The doors are opened and they enter the lobby, and my breath catches in my throat as one of the men turns and looks my way.

   It's Mr. Cox from the bus!

   The same recognition becomes apparent on his own face and he stops talking immediately and with wide eyes just gapes at me. 

   The man beside him looks at the two of us in confusion. "Sir? Do you know this young lady?"

   Mr. Cox gives a faint nod and then seems to shake himself out of his stupor. He clears his throat and gives a nervous smile as he walks near me, his eyes darting every which way. He's nervous, afraid, and confused. **_That_** I can tell easily.

   "Well Lia, I hadn't expected to see you again. Least of all here. Is there some reason you followed me?"

   The man besides him narrows his eyes in suspicion.

   In response to his question I shake my head. I didn't follow you Mr. Cox. This was my original destination. 

   Mr. Cox raises his eyebrows in surprise and the man beside him, his assistant I guess, seems more astonished at the fact that I'm mute. The man needs to get out more.

   "So you have been planning on coming here?" I can tell that he's beginning to choose his words carefully.

   It was my sole reason for traveling from my home. 

   "You went all that way just to come here?" I can almost see the wheels in his head turning. "Why? What is so important here?"

   "Sir, are you sure that I shouldn't call the swee-"

   Mr. Cox gives his assistant a death glare so intense that even though its not being pointed at me, I cringe. 

   I begin to become frightened. There's more going on here. I shouldn't have come…

   Mr. Cox once again turns back to me, more composed this time. He repeats his question.

   I pause a moment, but then remember why I'm here. I have to find my sister. I have no one else. I am looking for someone

   "Who?"

   My sister. I … my parents passed away. I am an orphan now. I dig through my backpack until I find the picture I was given, of my sister's 1st birthday. The baby has some thick black hair growing in, and bright green eyes.

   I hesitate, and then pass him the picture. This is my sister. 

   He takes it, and I can see that he doesn't recognize the child. His assistant however, does. I can sense it like a punch to the gut. The man knows who it is in the picture, though he's trying to hide it, and he's becoming more nervous.

   Mr. Cox slowly shakes his head and hands me back the picture. "I don't know who that is. I don't come here often…but I doubt that the person you're looking for is here. Besides, if you don't have a name, we won't be able to find them." He then gives a small, barely noticeable smirk. "Also, if you are an orphan, what are you doing without some form of parental guidance with you?"

   I purse my lips at the question, but then turn to his assistant, anger flashing briefly in my eyes. You know who it is in that picture. I know it. Tell me what happened to her please. 

   The assistant, apparently baffled, put a hand in front of his mouth to hide the movements of his lips as he whispers to Cox, "what did she say?"

   Cox rolls his eyes at the man's stupidity, and then answers back, loud enough for me to hear, " she said that you know the child in the picture, and she wants you to tell her what happened to her. But-" he then looks at me directly. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a moment Lia. I have to discuss something with my subordinate for a moment."

   He practically drags the man out of the room, and for the moment, I'm alone. I stand there, blink once or twice, and then sit down in a waiting chair in front of the desk. I guess I'll just wait then. No harm in that right? Right? 

~~~

Mr. Cox slams Simon's body against the wall. "You know the girl in that picture?" he seethes through clenched teeth. "Who is she? And how does Lia know about her?!"  

   Simon, the lowly assistant from before, holds up his hands in an attempt to block any possible blows. "P-Please sir, yes I know about the child. I don't know how the mute girl out there knows-"

   "Who is she?" Mr. Cox demands.

   "The girl in the picture?"

   "Who do you think you inferior thick-headed fool of a man! Of course the girl in the picture!"

   He swallows nervously. "Well you know about the true nature of this orphanage…"

   Mr. Cox once again looks skyward. "Does not everybody in the Triumvate? Now please stop stating the obvious and give me a straight answer!" he growls viciously, clearly having lost his patience.

   "She-she was a child that Dr. Raines took. A-A pretender child. "

  Cox, who had been about to physically knock sense into Simon, slowly lowers his hand. "Explain."

   "M-Mr. Raines had a secret project apparently, no one was told about it, all I know is that he was relocating some of the pretender-possible children from the orphanage to the Centre in Delaware. Sh-She was the brightest pretender we had here sir. Those of us who had heard tales of the famous Jarod, had even betted that she was at his level. M-Maybe higher."

   Mr. Cox had fully let go of Simon, and was now mulling about his own thoughts. "Did she have a name?"

   "Well her date of birth caused us to call her Elf if that's what you mean. Raines supposedly added on a project number to that title, but we never found out her true name."

  Mr. Cox then glances out past the windows to the door they were behind, watching Lia as she gazes up at the ceiling and down at her shoes impatiently. "Elf 17 eh?" he murmurs softly to no one in particular. "We'd heard about her, it was hard info to miss, but we never knew that he had a sister… is it possible that it escaped Raines' notice as well?"

  "Sir?" Simon asks tentatively.

   Mr. Cox's glazed eyes come back into focus and he shakes his head slightly. "Nothing." He then looked at him fiercely. "Get on the phone with the Centre in Blue Cove. Tell them that I want to speak to Dr. Raines."

   He nods. "And what shall I tell them it's about sir?" 

   Mr. Cox once again looks out at Lia, and a slow grin comes to his face. "Tell them that a very remarkable person has found her way into the orphanage's hands, and that it could be a very opportune twist of fate for the Centre." He grins wickedly. "Very opportune indeed."

************************************************************************************

Ta da! Liking it so far? I know I'm being cruel to the good guys, but I can't help it. (Grins evilly) so anyhow, please review. Oh, and to Molly Morrison, you're right about the hints. I should have made them more obvious. Thanks for the tip!

  ---Talk to you guys soon!


	5. TwoFaced

**Disclaimer:** I will say it **_again _**if I must. I don't own it, this is my own little plot twist, and I probably have to do this d--n disclaimer just to boost Craig and Steve's ego. 

**Rating:** It's censored so…PG? PG-13? The world may never know.

**Summary:** Um, Oooh, Uh… I can't think of one. I'll write you up an IOU.  =)

**!!!Author's Note!!!: So sorry about posting the last chapter late, but it wasn't my fault this time. (I know, a likely story). Fanfiction.net's site screwed up again and they wouldn't let me upload anything for three days. So again, I'm sorry.  Blame the site. Also, I've checked and double checked, and found out that the real spelling of the word Triumvate, is really the Triumvirate. I'm sure of it this time. Sorry I've been misspelling it.**

**Feedback:** (Shadow Elf has decided to walk with the little green dude she's met, who's told her that his name is Yoda, and is now walking around the city, trying to find out from the small guy just where she is so that she can start barding again) 

   "So let me get this straight, this universe is controlled by a very strict and almost communist government whose laws are carried out by Klu Klux Klan rejects in armor, and their leader, the Saddam Hussein of this whacked out realm, is an old shriveled prune who apparently works with-" [she makes quotation marks in the air] "'The dark side'?"

Yoda: [nods]

   "But there are no evil mages right?"

Yoda: Evil mages there are not.

   [Grins] "Then I think I'm going to like this world just fine." 

**Quote: **

**"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his." **  ---General George Patton 

************************************_ShadowElfBard_**************************************

4:38 PM, Tuesday

Pensacola, Florida

Hotel Room 42

**(Jarod)**

   Nothing is ever simple is it?

   If you think about it, really think about it, I have never truly had a moment peace, a calm serene moment, or a normal segment of time to call my own. I've always had to deal with more important things. Conspiracies, Centre interference, crimes, data searches, and the occasional run from the pursuit team. And now this. 

   Astrea's call has completely tossed away any illusion I might have had of trying to stay safe and hidden. I could have refused, I probably should have refused, but I feel like I owe the girl. I know, I know, in some inadvertent way she was the one who put me in the Centre in the first place, but she worked so hard at freeing me, and had been willing to give up her own life for it. That's not something I take lightly. So, even though I am experiencing a twinge of fear at the prospect of willingly going to Blue Cove to search for clues and data as to what's happening, I feel all right about it. At least I'll be helping out a friend right? But speaking of friends…

   I click on another icon that is being displayed on the screen. I hacked into the Centre a few minutes ago, and now I'm trying to find out whom it is exactly that Mr. Broots is now working for. I really should be getting ready to travel to Delaware to go meet Astrea as we'd planned, but I'd told Sydney I would check up on the technician. My word is my bond.

   Another reason I suppose I'm doing this is that I'm curious. A bad trait to have sometimes I know, believe me, but I can't help it. I also like Broots, he's a bit cowardly at times, but he is kind, selfless, and a wonderful father. The only crime he's ever been guilty of was being so good of a technician that he caught the attention of the Centre. But that can't be helped. And if he's been able to remain moral and virtuous after all his time working there, then he truly must be a good person. There aren't too many of them out there. I need to save the one's I can.                                                                                

   I let out a happy sigh as I reach the page I was looking for. Finally. They've changed the "locks" so to speak, on the site. Strange, that. Hmm. I'll look around later to see if there's something new going on. But not now. Now I have to find out where exactly a tech has been sent. Ah, here we go. Preciously worked under Ms. Parker on specially designed pursuit team…yadda, yadda, yadda…recently sent to office in sub levels. Current employer Mr.-- 

   Raines. He's been sent to work under Raines. And if this data is correct, he's been stationed in Raines' office.

   I exit the site and shake my head sadly.

  Broots. Poor, timid, quietly brilliant Broots. How had he been sent to that hell? What could he have possibly done to deserve it? But of course, within the Centre there was no deserving, and there was definitely no pitying. They would do what worked for them, to hell with how it affected other people. People aren't their concern. It's just a job, and looking out for others isn't in the job description. 

   How perfectly convenient for them.

   I lean back in the chair. I told Sydney I would e-mail it to him, but if I'm going to be leaving… maybe it would be easier just to call him. At least that way I can make him think I'm going to be staying where I am for a while.

   I reach over for my cell and then push the button that will dial Sydney's number. It rings once, then twice, and then I hear it being clicked on.

   "Who is this?" I hear barked in from the other side.

   I bring the phone away from my ear in surprise. "M-Ms. Parker?"

   I hear an intake of breath. "Jarod?"

   We both are silent for a few precious moments, completely taken by surprise. Ms. Parker, as usual, recovers first.

   "What do you want wonder boy? "

   "I want to talk to Sydney. I would think that to be obvious since I dialed **_his_** number."

   I can practically see the curling of her perfectly crafted lip. "Freud isn't here at the moment." Then she adds sweetly, "but if you leave your number and address, I'm sure he'll try and contact you back." 

   I smile in spite of myself. "Sorry Ms. Parker, I'm afraid I can't do that. But maybe I can pencil you in for a date some other time. Next Tuesday good for you?"

   "Why wait so long? Just let me grab my gun and a pair of cuffs and I'll be over right now."

   I roll my eyes upward in amusement. She doesn't miss a beat does she? "You know I'd love to keep playing this game with you-"

   "Don't I know it." she mutters.

   "-But I have to give you some information." 

   "Oh, so you **_are _**going to turn yourself in." I hear her remark snidely.

   "No, nothing so drastic." I reply coolly. "Sydney asked me to find out where Mr. Broots has been sent, and I have the information he requested. But since he isn't there…"

   "Tell me lab rat." She snarls. "Now."

    "Worried are we?" I taunt.

    "Give me the information." 

   "Say pretty please."

    "Pretty please you fu----g ba----d!" she screams at me. "Now give me the god da--n information!"

   I widen my eyes in complete surprise and pull the phone away for a moment. Whoa. I have heard her call me things before, but never with such ferocity. This must be a touchy subject for her. 

   "All right, all right. No need for profanity." I say relenting. "Broots is working in the sublevels."

   "The sub levels? What the hell is he doing down there?"

   "Probably creating codes for Raines." I tell her. "He's working in **_his_** office." 

   "Raines?" she asks, a bit of fear and hatred creeping into her voice. "Broots was auctioned off to Raines? That wheeze bag has **_my _**technician? He has **_my _**computer whiz creating programs and retrieving information for him? How dare he steal my lackey!"

   I'm about to say something to calm her down, but the call is suddenly disconnected. I look at the phone in stupefied amazement. She hung up on me. She… hung up… on me. Me. That's a first. 

   I put down my cell and shake my head slowly. God help Raines. He's going to need it.

4:52 PM

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Hallway

**(Ms. Parker)**

   I storm through the halls of the sub-levels, ignoring the fact that nearly everyone is practically throwing themselves at the walls to get out of my way. I'm too infuriated to notice. All I can think on is the fact the Raines has Broots. **_My_**Broots. Not his. And I'll be damned if he's going to take him away from me.

   I growl fiercely at the sweepers who are standing in front of the doors that to Raines' office. But they don't budge. My eyes seem to glow red as I glare at them with such intensity that it would make even the prince of darkness shudder.

   The guard on the right gulps nervously, but neither of them moves. 

   I cross my arms. "All right stony, what's the deal?"

   The one on the left, Willie, is a little more composed then the man beside him. "I'm sorry Ms. Parker but you are not permitted to enter. Mr. Raines isn't in his office right now. Try coming back later."

   "Then why are you guarding the door?" I question, my gaze still sharp and piercing.

   Willie doesn't seem to notice how cruel a stare I'm giving him, and remains impassive. "Mr. Raines's office has been the target of thievery before-" He gives me a look, and I just smirk. "-And he would like to make sure that his personal files and such remain safe."

   "Oh how sweet." I sneer. "So you're being a good little boy scout and looking after his things. Excuse me while I don't believe you."

   Willie narrows his eyes just a smidge. "Ms. Parker, there is nothing in there but Raines' personal items. If you would like to contact Mr. Raines, I last heard that he was in a meeting in Mr. Lyle's office. Why don't you go check up **_there _**for him?"

   I'm about to respond with a witty retort, but it seems that I don't have to. From inside the office there comes a surprised and slightly childish, "Ow! Hey!" and I realize that I've just won.

   I turn back to him, as he seethes with quiet hatred, and give a victorious and knowing smile. "Nothing but personal items huh?"

   Willie purses his lips with anger.

   I motion to the side with my head. "Move it."

   He grudgingly concedes and steps out of my way, and the other sweeper follows his movement eagerly. 

   I wink at Willie just to torment him further and then push open the door to the office.

   Inside, sitting in the corner of the room in front of a large computer set up, is Broots. He has a finger in his mouth, and is muttering angrily under his breath.

   I grin, while his back is still turned to me. "Did the computer bite you Broots?"

   "No, it just shocked me. Darn static electricity, it hurt-" he stops suddenly, and spins around, joy in his eyes. For a moment I swear that he's going to cry. "Ms. Parker?"

   Calm as ever, the corners of my mouth remain turned upward. "Hello Broots."

   He's speechless, elated, but speechless. "I-I thought for sure that you guys had forgotten about me. Th-that you'd got a new tech and that-"

   "Quit babbling Broots." I scold softly. "You're **_my_** tech remember? You can't escape me."

   He looks like he's ready to laugh and weep at the same time. "Oh Ms. Parker, you have no idea how good it is to see you're face…" Then he looks confused. "But how did you find me?"

   For a moment I scowl. "I received a call from the self-righteous wonder boy. It took him a while to actually spit it out, but in the end he gave me what I needed."

   Broots chuckles softly and shakes his head. "Yet another thing I owe him for."

   I raise an eyebrow. "Oh no. You owe **_me _**for this one Broots."

   "I'll kiss the ground you walk on if that's what you want." He says happily. " I don't care as long as I get out of here." He stops. "I **_am _**getting out of here right? I mean, you did come here to put me back on the pursuit team didn't you?"

   "Don't worry Broots. You're coming back with me. So, grab you're things and let's get out of-"

   "I'm afraid that Mr. Broots won't be going anywhere at the moment." 

   Broots quickly lowers his head in submission and folds his hands in his lap, while I turn around to face Raines with a glare. 

   He's standing just inside of the room with Willie positioned coldly behind him with his arms folded, and my brother, grinning like a maniac as always, is besides Raines with his hands in his suit pockets.

   I glower at them. "I'm taking Broots back with me Raines." I speak through clenched teeth. "He's my tech."

   Raines doesn't even flinch. "**_Former_** tech Ms. Parker. According to the Triumvirate, Mr. Broots was officially removed from your pursuit team nearly two days ago."

   "I was never informed." I fume. "That auction was improperly carried out."

   "Then take it up with the Triumvirate." My twin says evenly. "I've looked at the papers myself, and right now if you took the tech with you then you'd be going against not only the Triumvirate's orders, but dad's as well." He puts on a sweet face that makes me want to gag. "Come on sis, is a technician really worth all that much? It thought that Marie was working just fine for us."

   I resist the temptation to throw myself at him and start beating in his face, and give a tight-lipped smile. Then I turn to Raines with unhidden anger. "I will talk to my father about this. I promise you that."

   He gives his own little grin. "Please do."

   I look back at Broots, and see how he's raised his head just enough to allow me to see the longing and fear in his eyes. He looks at me with the expression of a small, wounded animal begging to be saved, and I turn my back on him. It hurts with a near blinding pain to do so, but there's nothing else I can do.

   Then, without stopping or looking back once, I stride out of the office, fury and sorrow and helplessness enveloping my every feeling. 

   "I'll be back for you." I promise Broots silently as I go back up to the main floor. "Just hang on a little longer."

5:29 PM, Tuesday

Jessup, Maryland

Astrea's Home

(Astrea)

   "So explain to me again where it is you're heading?" Arthur asks me for about the fifth time today.

   I turn away slowly from the suitcase I'm packing up. "Arthur, I am going to meet with a friend, who is going to help me get an antidote for my…sickness. I'll be meeting with him in a city near Blue Cove."

   "Ah, I see." Arthur nods sagely. Then he bites his lip. "You'll ah, you'll be going alone?"

   I sigh. "It's not that I don't like you Arthur, you're a nice person, but I don't want to endanger you."

   "Endanger me?" he scoffs. "My young lady, I can hold my own thank you. Do try to remember that."

   I have to stifle a giggle at he thought of this man 'holding his own' in a fight, and try to keep a straight face as I talk. "I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself Arthur, but I am better equipped to take these people on. Besides, I probably won't be fighting at all. Its just a get in, get out sort of thing."

   His eyes light up. "A-h-h-h. I see. Espionage!"

    God help me… "No, Arthur, I know you want to help, I really do understand, but I just can't let you come. Should something happen…" I break off as I see him sadly gaze to the ground. He looks so helpless and heartbroken… Maybe I should let him come. Could it be all that bad? If he doesn't enter the Centre then he'll be okay right?

   I finally give in. "Oh, alright Arthur. You can come."

   He smiles again, his depression suddenly gone. "Really? Oh thank you! You won't regret this, I promise you. "

   "Yeah, okay." Then I fold my arms. "But once we get there you are **_not _**to follow my friend and I inside the Centre. Is that understood?"

   He nods eagerly and I can't help but laugh. "Okay, go get packed up."

   He quickly leaves my room to go gather his things and I lay down on my bed. I glance over at my arm and bring it closer to my face, my eyes scrutinizing over it. They're still there, the stripes. Black and getting blacker. I always wondered what cat predator's cells ran through my veins. I knew Raines' had given me wolf, and even bloodhound, but I hadn't been able to guess what feline cells had been injected. So it was tiger cells. And judging from how pale the skin around my stripes have been becoming the past few days, it was probably white tiger cells. It seems fitting somehow. 

   I stare up at the ceiling. I wonder if Jarod ever had to go through anything like this. If he ever had to deal with a chemical or drug in his system besides the amnesiac that was administered. I'm willing to bet that he has. The Centre cares nothing about others. We're all just tools to them.

   I ponder upon that thought some more, and bite my lip in concentration. Then in sudden pain I quickly sit up and slowly raise a finger to my lip. I draw it away and it's red with blood. It seems that my incisors are sharper than usual.

   I close my eyes and let my arm fall limp at my side as I struggle to hold back tears of anger.   

   Something must be done soon. I don't know how much longer I have.

6:03 PM, Tuesday 

Los Angeles, California

The LA Institution For Child Welfare

**(Lia)**

I have been sitting here for over an hour or so, I'm not totally certain because I have no way to know what time it is. I've been scanning over old magazines, looking around the room, and had even tried to peek past the door that leads to the halls once or twice before a very well built man in black glasses and a black suit motioned for me to return to my seat.

   I am scared.

   I have a very plausible reason to be, and this time not even my voice of reason can disagree. I've been getting strange vibes. Strange and foreign feelings and dark purposes have been seeping through my very being. I have this unexplainable urge to leave. I've had these sorts of compulsions before, and I have learned to trust them. I've come to learn the danger of doing otherwise.

   But Mr. Cox still has not returned. And supposedly I'm not allowed to leave until he does. I know, it doesn't make sense to me either, but I find myself very willing to do what the frightening man in the black suit tells me to do. Self-preservation is very highly placed on my list.

   But still, his meeting is taking longer than I would expect it to, and I've gotten the feeling that if I don't leave soon, I might not be able to at all.

   Suddenly the door to the halls opens, and Mr. Cox looks around the room, spots me, smiles, and then beckons for me to follow him.

   I get up warily, wondering if I have any choice in the matter, and then upon realizing that I don't, I grudgingly stand and trudge my way over, trying unsuccessfully to try and hide how much I **_don't _**want to follow him.

  Mr. Cox seems to notice my unwillingness, and cruelly grins at it. I'm beginning to think that perhaps my first evaluation of this man had been a bit wide of the mark. 

   I enter the hallway and he closes the double doors behind me. We begin walking side by side, at a slow, even, and particularly calm pace. But Mr. Cox I know is anything but calm. In fact, were this man any more thrilled and joyous than he was now, I would have guessed that he'd just come back from a rather R rated activity. 

   "Well Lia, I must say that your appearance here was at first very shocking. But then to add on that you've recently been orphaned, and that you're searching for a child long since removed from this building… I have to declare that I have moved from shock to astonishment. "

   I stop walking, which is probably a good thing, as I had no idea where it was we were going in the first place, and I stare up at him. What do you mean that the child was removed?   

   He puts on fake sympathy. "I'm saying that I regret to announce that your sister was adopted when she was about two. I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you."

   I tell easily, just from his tone, that he isn't in the least.

   "So, now that you've found out that your sister is gone from here, what will you do, or, rather, what do you see yourself doing?"

   Keep looking for her I guess. One setback won't throw me off track. I realize in the back of my mind, that it feels as if some people are approaching, but ignore it.

   Mr. Cox laughs at my statement. "My you are determined aren't you? One setback won't throw you off, and I have to admit, that I would have been surprised if it had. But-" then he grins in the dim lighting, and I see a predator in his features. "What about two setbacks?" 

   My eyebrows go up in confusion, but before I can do anything, someone from behind me roughly grabs my arms and holds me closely and tightly. Then another person with him takes a pair of cuffs and the hands that have been forced behind my back are bound. 

   The act is as effective as if a gag had been thrown over my mouth.

   I am unable to hide my horror, my fear, and my confusion as I stare baffled up at Mr. Cox, someone I thought I had been able to trust. Mr. Cox shrugs off my look, and I'm appalled as to how casually he is able to do so. The two men who had handcuffed me grab my arms and hold me still as he walks forward a step or so.

  "You know, I truly had no intention of doing this to you when I'd first met you. I'd actually looked upon you as a mere kind acquaintance. But you just had to come here didn't you? You just had to make an agent from a covert corporation aware of your relation to one of the most brilliant geniuses on the planet."

   My eyes bug out and he just sadly shakes his head. "Ah well. If it's any consolation you and I will be traveling together once more, though because you'll be cuffed I doubt that we'll be able to carry on a conversation. A pity, but I'm sure you appreciate the need for such things in these matters."

   No, no I don't. I don't know what these "matters" even are. But, predictably, I am unable to tell him this.

   Cox once again sadly shakes his head, and I can tell that he truly regrets doing this. Whatever "this" is that is. Then he slowly reaches into a pocket and draws forth a syringe.

   He places it above my arm that has been so generously provided to him by the gorilla of a man who's holding me. He looks into my eyes once more. "This is only for the transition from here to the jet you know. You'll be conscious for the trip, don't worry."

   Oh believe me, whether I'm awake for the trip or not is the least of my worries.

   "I truly am sorry about all of this." He tells me one last time, before plunging the needle into my skin.

   I try to fight the effects of the chemical that has been put into my system, but in the end the confusement I'm feeling is too much and I look upon my efforts as pointless. I surrender to the darkness and then let it claim me as its own.

8:49 PM, Tuesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Raines Office

(Broots)

   My eyes sting. They should I suppose, after all I've been staring at a screen for the better part of two days. I've finished the code Raines wanted, and I used an extremely complex cipher to make it.  I've already tested its potency, and the strength should approximately be the 132-bit strength that he requested. So, for the moment at least, I can rest while I wait for him to come down and check on my progress.

   Today was horrible. I came so close, so very close to being free that I could have reached out and touched the finish line, but I was knocked down. Shot down is probably more appropriate. Ms. Parker had almost saved me today, but Raines had ruined it. Well, why the hell not? He's already ruined my life, why not my dreams of freedom? 

   I think that I ate once today. I know that I had a mug of soup brought up from the Center's corporate restaurant, but I don't remember eating breakfast, or dinner, or any form of snack. I've pretty much been locked in this accursed room all day, except for being let out every three or four hours for the bathroom.  I really don't understand why I'm being kept prisoner in Raines office, it's not like I have anywhere to go. Does he think I'll try to run away? Does he fear that I'll try and contact Sydney or Ms. P? Is he afraid that I'll be stolen or something? Maybe he worries about one of those things. Then again, he could just be paranoid.

   I minimize the program I'm working on and access a calendar that I've put on the desktop. Huh. Today's the twentieth. Saturday is Christmas Eve. Sunday is Christmas morning. I haven't gotten all of my shopping done. I have about three quarters of the presents I've been planning on buying for my daughter, and I'll need to find some time this week to go to the mall. Debbie is really excited this year about it, probably because I've hinted at getting her a computer set up. She's always been interested in computers, just as I have been, and I've been teaching her as much as I can about them since she was about seven or eight. She isn't all the way there yet, and probably won't be for about four or five years, but she already knows a lot more than her classmates do I bet. 

   Christmas…gosh it comes earlier every year doesn't it? It's like the holiday hides in wait, and then pounces upon parents only a week or two before. I've found that it's much harder to shop for your kid once they become a teenager. And it's definitely more expensive. Because that's when they want electronics, video games, computer software and programs, TV's and DVD players, movies and CD's, stereos and phones. Those things cost a lot more than a Barbie doll or a Little Tykes jeep. Before I was sent to the hell I'm in now, I'd been putting in extra hours at work just to get extra money. I even auctioned off some of my own program creations on e-bay, whatever I've been able to do to raise more money for the holiday season.  

   Now though, I'm worried about whether or not I'll even be able to spend Christmas with my daughter. Raines wouldn't make me work that day would he? He couldn't possibly be so mean right? I roll my eyes upward at my own stupid thoughts. Of course he could. He's Scrooge and the Grinch rolled into one with a bit of extra evil sprinkled on top. 

   I have to ask him though; I'll offer to work all through the night for a few more days to spend that holiday with my daughter if I have to. She spent Christmas with her mother last year, and she'd returned crying. I'm still not sure what went on, but I know that Debbie had been frightened, and angry, and sad, and it had been clear that she'd felt worthless. Whatever her mother had said to her, it hadn't been cheery. But what else can you expect? My ex-wife had problems. She was an alcoholic, and had been arrested on drug use. But the bottom line was, that I'd vowed to do whatever I had to do to keep Debbie away from her on holidays. Holidays were a time for love and care, and it seemed that my ex-wife had neither to give, even to her own daughter.

   I hear the door opening and quickly turn in my seat to face whoever's entering.

   It's Mr. Raines, which is perfectly predictable, and Willie stands holding the door open beside him.

   "Are you finished with the code?" he rasps at me, standing straight and tall.

   "Y-Yes sir. I have it finished. 132-bit strength as you requested."

   He nods his head and smiles. "Good. Then I want you to encode this."

   He hands me a floppy disc, and I hold it in my hands as I stare up at him, waiting to see if there are any more instructions.

   There are. "You are not to read this. Simply insert it, encrypt the data, and return the disc to me." He narrows his eyes. "Should I find out that you've done otherwise, or that you've copied the data to another disc, the reprimands will be…harsh."

  "Yes sir." I then lower my eyes for good measure.

   He stares at me a moment longer, probably judging my sincerity, and then, seemingly satisfied, he turns and prepares to leave.

   "Uh, sir?"

   He turns slightly. "What?"

   "Well uh, it's just that this weekend is Christmas sir-" God I sound like Bob Cratchit-  "and I was wondering sir, if I might have half of Saturday and all of Sunday off to spend time with my daughter." I can see that he's about to tell me flat out no, when I decide to add, "I'll work full time and non-stop until then, I just want to spend this holiday with Debbie."

   He seems to pause and consider it, obviously liking the idea of me working past normal hours at the Centre, and then gives a reluctant nod. "Very well. You may have that time off Mr. Broots. But, until then, you will hold true to your promise and stay and work here at the Centre. Until Saturday you are not allowed to leave without my permission. Is that understood?"

   I can barely hide my joy. "Yes sir."

   "Good. Now get back to work."

   Then he leaves, and I turn around and insert the disc into its slot, waiting as the contents that are going to be encrypted are opened.

   Wow. I can't believe he said yes. That was amazing. It's not good that I'll have to remain here until then, but if I can spend the weekend with my daughter, I'll be fine. 

   I smile and then type in some keystrokes and click a few icons that will start up the encryption process. It begins to encode the data, but right before it starts, for one brief moment, a title flashes across the screen that causes me to open my mouth slightly in curiosity.

   PROJECT LOCATION

   Then the words are gone, and the symbols that are included in my code begin to overthrow the letters. But I hardly even notice. My mind is focused on the words I just read. Project Location? A new project? I wonder what that's all about. It must be pretty important, since he requested such a strong code to hide the information. What could it be? Knowing the Centre its probably best if I stay out of it, and safer as well, but I don't know…

   I rest my chin in my hand. Huh. This is a tough decision.  It could be a harmless project, something really legal and simple, but if it is, then why go to such trouble to secure it? Should I tell someone? And if so, whom in the world could I tell? It's not like I can just pick up the phone and call someone. 

   I yawn and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and getting comfortable so that I can sleep for a while. I'll think on it later. Maybe tomorrow. It's just a project, and if I wait a night or so to try and contact Syd or someone, nothing will happen. The world won't be destroyed or anything.

   My eyes open wide.

   At least, I hope not.

************************************************************************************

And there's the next chapter! I hope you like how early I'm posting this, I had a lot to do while I was waiting for the site to begin working properly again. Anyways, please, please, please, please, **_please _**give me feedback.  

   ---Talk to you soon!

   PS:  I hope you all enjoy your summer as much as I am right now. Because of it, I might even be able to get chapters posted sooner. You never know…


	6. A Big Lesson, From A Small Source

**Disclaimer: **Possession is nine-tenths of the law. I don't want to break any of those laws. So I'm going to tell you right now, that I don't own this. Simple isn't it?

**Rating: **PG or a PG-13. Or maybe a PG-11. Or a PG-10! Or a PG-9! Or maybe a-- (blushes.) Oh. Sorry. I'll shut up now. 

**Summary:** Lia is transported, Astrea travels with Arthur, and Jarod is taught something valuable by an unlikely teacher.

**!!!Author's note!!!: Yes, just to satisfy the curiosity that will come later on, they really _do_** **eat all the things that Arthur ordered for breakfast in England. I lived there for a year or two. Did you know that their version of bacon is a slab of ham? I swear, it's like a third-world country.**

**Feedback:** (Vader is at the moment in his master's palace chamber, telling the emperor what was told to him by the now deceased stormtrooper)  
_Emperor:_ So you believe that this creature your subordinate spoke of is a powerful Jedi? If so they could be a powerful asset to us…

_Vader:_ Yes sir, but…aren't we supposed to be looking for Skywalker?

_Emperor:_ Oh, who cares about him? Now, I want you to find this creature. I have brought in my loyal and trusted servant to aid you. 

(The door opens and a person walks in, covered from head to toe in a long black robe.)

_Vader:_ (pouting) But **_I'm_** supposed to be your loyal and trusted servant!

_Emperor: _Oh come **_on_**. You're a walking blender for Christ's sake! You can be loyal and trusted servant #2 if it pleases you.

_Vader:_ (folding his arms) Humph.

**Quote:**

**"A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on." **

                                                                        ------Sir Winston Churchill 

************************************_ShadowElfBard_**************************************

12:47 AM, Wednesday

Indeterminable Location

On Jet

**(Lia)**

_I've heard your anguish, I've heard your hearts cry out_

_We are tired, we are weary, but we aren't worn out_

_Set down your chains, until only faith remains_

_Set down your chains_

_And lend your voices only to sounds of freedom_

_No longer lend your strength to that which you wish to be free from_

_Fill your lives with love and bravery_

_And we shall lead a life uncommon_-

   "Will you turn that thing down? Really, how loud does it have to be for you to hear it? Are you deaf as well as mute?"

   I turn and glare at Mr. Cox, but reluctantly turn down the volume on my CD player a notch or two. Then I fold my arms and stare out the window. I know I'm acting very childish right now, but I can't help it. It's the only stress reliever I have at the moment. This has to be the **_weirdest _**kidnapping in history. When I awoke a few hours ago, I'd been sitting in a comfortable reclining vinyl covered seat, with lots of legroom by a large window that clearly let me see the night sky. Cox had been in the seat next to me, and two sets of the strange bodyguards in black suits had been seated behind and in front of us. 

   After I'd awoke, Cox had smiled warmly and told me that we still had three or four hours to go, and that I could rest, or find something to do in my backpack. Yes, you heard me right. This weirdo had not only kidnapped me and brought me on a luxurious jet; he'd grabbed my backpack for me as well. I'd also noticed that he'd decided to take the cuffs off of my hands. What a kind abductor.

   So I've been reading, writing poetry, and listening to music for the past few hours. I'm still trying to figure out exactly what is going on, but unfortunately I've come up with nothing so far. I have come to think that perhaps my search for a sister has taken a wrong turn. 

   I yawn and look around the jet, trying to find something to interest me. But all I can see are scary bodyguards and comfy seats. Humph. They should have at least put on an in-flight movie or something. This is getting downright boring.   

   Mr. Cox sees me squirming in my seat and sighs. "Will you **_please_** sit still? We'll be there soon enough."

   I stick out my chin crossly. Why the hell am I even here? What use is there in kidnapping me? I have no parents, so you can't get a ransom. Are you a stupid kidnapper or something? Is this your first time? 

   He frowns. "You should keep quiet."

   Keep quiet?! I **_am _**quiet! I'm always quiet! I can't be anything **_but _**quiet! Haven't you realized that?! 

   We both just stare each other down for a few moments, both of us seething with silent anger. Then someone from the cockpit walks over cheerily.

   "Sir we'll be on the ground in a few minutes. Would you like anything to--"

   We both snap our heads around and glare at him, and he gulps, nervously backs up, and then hurries away.

   Then we slowly look at each other once more, each of us fuming in irritation at the others words and actions.

   Finally Mr. Cox speaks. "You know, I found you much more tolerable on the bus ride."

   You weren't trying to kidnap me then. 

   He opens his mouth to respond and then shuts it and shakes his head petulantly. "Never mind."

   I tightly fold my arms once more and slouch back into the seat, lowering my head as much as I can while I frown.  The quicker we get to wherever it is we're going, the better. I doubt that anything can be worse than being stuck where I am right now.

    I hope we get there soon.

7:52 AM, Wednesday

In Maryland Halfway To Delaware

In A Car

**(Astrea) **

   "I spy, with my little eye, something white." 

   "A cloud."

   "By golly you've done it again! How are you able to know these things so easily?"

   I turn away from the window I was looking out of and give Arthur a faint smile. "Just lucky I guess." 

   Arthur returns my kind expression and goes back to concentrating on the road. I suppose I was lucky that Arthur had brought his car with him from England. It's sort of ugly; a small almost beetle shaped old Ford with white paint that's slowly but surely chipping off. But he seems to adore it. He told me that there would never be a time when things get so bad that he'll have to sell it. It is supposedly his favorite car. But, be it his favorite or not, it still must be hard for him to drive on the right side of the road like this while the drivers seat is on the right. But I have to give him credit; I've only had to save us from driving into a tree or another car twice. 

   The trip so far has been uneventful. Arthur has tried to dazzle me with stories of English espionage during WWII, and has taught me how to play 'fifty questions' and 'I spy'. Both games I've found can easily be won with pretender skills, and I'm sad to report that I haven't had much of a challenge yet. Oh well.

   Jarod contacted me before we left, and told me that he'd meet me at about one thirty in Delaware, because he'd be taking a plane. He'd sounded strangely suspicious when I'd talked to him, like he was trying to hide something, but that wouldn't make sense. What could he possibly have to hide from me? 

    "Are you hungry?" Arthur asks me kindly. "We left before breakfast you know. Maybe we should stop somewhere to eat." 

   I think on the proposition for a moment. Breakfast does sound good… "All right." I say, agreeing with his idea. "Let's stop somewhere." 

   "Splendid!" He exclaims happily.

**_Thirteen minutes later…_**

"Denny's? Who's Denny?"

   Arthur frowns at my question. "I'm not sure. I've never heard of this restaurant, but that kind gentleman at the gas station told me that it was a good place to get breakfast."

   I stare up at the sign once more, still thoroughly confused at the title of the restaurant, but a growl from my stomach causes me to look to more important things.

   We enter the door, and I self-consciously pull down the black beanie that is covering my ears some more. There are lots of people here, mothers, children, fathers, singles, elderly, and waitresses and waiters. At least its warmer in here though. Maybe I'll be able to take off my sweater.

   Arthur scans the room, its contents and people with a smile, pleased it seems at the sight of the food being served. I have to agree with him on the food. From what I smell of it, it will be delicious. 

  "Good morning folks! Is it just the two of you?" a young woman with brown hair asks, holding out menus that we each take in turn.

   I nod. "Yes, we'll be dining alone."

   She keeps a wide southern smile on her face. "All right then, just follow me and we'll get you both situated."

   She shows us to a green backed booth, fairly secluded in the corner of the room, but still in plain visible sight for any who happened to look in this direction. The woman asks us for our drink orders, and I order water while Arthur requests a cup of tea. The woman walks off jovially, and I begin scanning my menu for a good meal.

   There is a lot to choose from. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, biscuit…half of this stuff I haven't even **_seen _**before. There are even sandwiches… Wait, sandwiches?

   "Arthur?"

   "Hmm?" he asks half-interestedly from behind his own menu.

   "There are lunch and dinner items on this menu. Does that imply that they serve those things as well for breakfast?"

   He brings his head up now, a puzzled look shown clearly on his face. "I would think so. We never served dinner of lunch for breakfast in England... but it is possible that American restaurants are different. You'll just have to check with the waitress I suppose."

   "Hmm… all right I guess." 

   She returns a few moments later with our drinks and once again smiles broadly, though I am certain that the act of doing so is almost painful to her. She must not be a morning person.

   "Are you all ready to order?" she asks, though it seems she's already assumed we are because she brings out her pad of paper and pen and looks expectantly at us. 

   Arthur gives her a polite nod. "Yes please I would like a slice of ham, fried eggs, a biscuit, and would you mind adding some tomato slices on the side?"

   The waitress leaves her mouth open slightly, while her eyebrow remains raised. She gives a hesitant nod. "Tomato slices… yeah, I guess we could do that."

   "What about lard?"

   She blinks, incredulous. "What **_about_** lard?"

   "Could you put some in with my eggs? "

   For a moment I'm not entirely sure that she won't throw-up. Then she seems to compose herself. "Um, I'm sorry sir but we don't put…**_lard_** in with customers eggs."

   Arthur's face droops. "Oh. All right then, thank you anyhow."

   "Uh, huh." She shakes her head slightly and then puts on another phony smile for me. "And what would you like?"

   "One question first, are you able to order these lunch and dinner items for breakfast?" I inquire calmly and seriously.

   "Yeah." She says slowly. "You've never been to a Denny's before?"

   "No."

   "Oh." For a few seconds she doesn't seem sure how to respond. "So, what did you want?"

   I scan over the menu, extremely pleased at the fortuitous turn of events. Then a picture catches my eye, and my mouth begins to salivate. I have made my decision.

   "I'd like this please." I tell her, pointing to the beautiful picture.

   "That's a picture of a steak."

   I nod. "Yes, that's what I would like."

   She writes it down and takes out menu's away, and right before she leaves I hear her mutter, "I better get a big tip for this."

   I purse my lips. "Hey Arthur?"

   "Yes?"

   "What's a tip?"

~~~~~

After fifteen agonizingly long minutes of waiting, I spot the waitress leisurely making her way towards us, holding up the faded red trays with her hands. The smell of what I ordered causes me to grip the table as I try to suppress the primal urge to knock the woman down and just snatch the plates from her. Nevertheless, I am unable to sit still as she comes closer. I stand up from the booth, looking hungrily at the appetizing meals that she still holds from me.

   Arthur, baffled at my reaction, stands up as well, thinking perhaps that this is American custom. 

   The waitress, having finally stopped at our table, sets the food down through half-opened eyes, and then seems to notice that Arthur and I are both standing at attention. She looks from me, my mouth open as I salivate, and then to Arthur, who is confusedly watching the rest of the patrons in the room to see if he is acting accordingly.

   She finally sighs. "I'm not even going to ask." 

   After the waitress walks away, I waste no time in sitting back in my seat and immediately reaching for the steak. Arthur takes a seat as well, relieved that he can sit down and blend in with the rest of the people in the room, and carefully sets up his silverware in the proper order.

   I however, miss the shining glint of the silverware, obviously intended for use, and after lifting up the steak, my claws embedded in the sides of it like grappling hooks, bite down and rip off piece after piece by jerking my head like a dog. Then I chew and swallow the meat, growling softly in content. Out of the corner of my eye I see someone nearing us, and I immediately stop and put the steak down on my plate, covering it slightly with my hands, and lower my head and glare at the man who is just walking by our table, following his every movement with my eyes. I continue to stay rigid and tense until he is out of sight, and then begin my eating process all over again. I have my eyes closed in pleasure, when I notice that our table has gone abruptly silent. I look over at Arthur, and see something that immediately makes me go red with shame. 

   He's sitting up straight, the napkin carefully tucked in his shirt collar and used as a bib of sorts. He has his fork raised, some bit of fried egg and tomato stuck on the end, and he wears a complete look of shock. His eyes are large and round, his mouth partially open, and he's blinking every few seconds, not noticing that the juice from the tomato is dripping onto his plate. 

    I carefully place down what little is left of the steak onto my own platter, and after slowly wiping off the sauce from my fingers with a napkin, reach for a fork and knife and begin slicing up the meat, my eyes downcast as my face remains hot with embarrassment. 

   Arthur begins eating again as well, if a bit tentatively, and we consume the rest of our breakfast in silence.

8:29 AM, Wednesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Renewal Wing

**(Lia)**

   I wake up groggily and wish that I had the ability to groan. Mr. Cox, kind man that he is, had given me yet **_another_** injection before we'd landed, saying that it was best that I didn't know where we were. What **_is_** it with that guy and syringes? Can we say, "Obsessed"?

   I open my eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright lighting, and then widen them as I notice what a weird room I'm in. I'm strapped down to what looks like an operating table of sorts, though it could very well be just a recovery bed. I never really watched medical shows. But I do know that this place must have one hell of a janitor. The room is so sterile and white and clean that for a moment, I'm afraid of going blind.

   I scan over the area once more, and cringe as I see all of the medical equipment hanging lifelessly on walls, or lying patiently on counters. I don't like doctor's offices. Never have, and never will. It's almost a phobia of mine. I suppose it has to do with the fact that I spent a lot of time there when I was younger because of my muteness. They were always trying to find out why I couldn't speak, and if it was a physical thing, or a mental handicap. I don't think that they ever found out which. If they did, they never told me. But, the point is, that doctor's offices are not at the top on my list of fun places to go.

   I keep my eyes clenched tightly shut as I try to take some calming breaths. Now is not the time to panic. Not when I'm strapped to a bed in a medical office, being held captive by some lunatic, surrounded by very sharp and shiny metal objects that could slice and dice me in a hundred different ways… Okay, this calming thing has just turned and gone in a completely different direction. 

   I sigh and lie still, ready to wait for the inevitable.

   Strangely enough, it comes ten seconds later.

   "You're awake Lia?" Mr. Cox asks cheerfully, as though he can't see that I'm strapped down with metal bands to a bed.

   My narrowed eyes and intense glower seem to answer his question.

   He chuckles, the sound hollow and taunting. "Not too happy about your arrangements? Well, I don't blame you. But Dr. Raines usually prefers to work within his 'element' so to speak."

   Dr. Raines? Oh great, now my kidnapper has imaginary friends. Could life possibly get any worse?

   As the door behind Mr. Cox opens, and the eerie sound of squeaking wheels announces the presence of another, I realize with a cold certainty that it can…and it has. 

   The man that enters is about the same height as Mr. Cox, though from my low and quite vulnerable position on the bed, he appears to be a giant. He's bald, that's the one thing I notice first, and he's dragging an oxygen tank behind him. Then I see his eyes, and my every nerve and feeling screams as I feel a sharp, icy pain. Terrified, I try to shirk from his gaze, and unconsciously begin squirming and wriggling in my bonds, a deep and primal force swelling up inside of me and shouting over and over again to flee as swiftly as possible. After the man has fully entered, two silent guards of seemingly impenetrable steel enter and stand resolutely behind him, hands clasped out in front.

   Mr. Cox shares a look with Dr. Raines, both had noticed my reaction. Then Cox clears his throat.

   "Lia, as you no doubt have guessed, this is Dr. Raines."

   I can do nothing but involuntarily tremble and shake slightly. 

  Raines scans over my quivering form, and stops when he reaches my eyes. My face scrunches up tighter and my heart races and threatens to burst completely free from my chest. Then he brings his attention back to Mr. Cox.

   He then gives a grudging nod. "She looks a lot like her. But I still want proof." 

   "A blood analysis should give you all the proof you need." Cox replies as smoothly as a politician. "That is of course, if you have samples from Elf 17?"

   Raines lips curve into a sneer. "Do you think me stupid Mr. Cox? Of course I have samples. I have blood samples from every project I've done. The analysis will indeed provide me with the necessary verification." He then walks over to me slowly, and with every step he takes I try more and more to fold in on myself. When he finally reaches me my body is so taut and tight, that I resemble a stone. 

   Dr. Raines raises a curled finger to his lips, pondering over something. "So she truly is mute?"

   "As far as I can tell. Unless of course, this is all a very elaborate ruse." 

   Raines looks straight at him. "Do you have reason to believe so?"

   "No." Cox replies, shaking his head slowly. "She would have no reason to pretend so."

   "Speaking of pretends, has she shown any…promise, in that area?"

   "Not of yet, no."

   Raines give a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment and looks down to scrutinize over me once more. 

   At this point, all color has been drained from my skin, my face is nearly covered in sweat, and I'm shivering. My stomach has seemed to clench and my breathing is ragged. 

   Dr. Raines begins moving his hand towards my forehead, suspicious of how healthy I am at the moment. But before he is an inch away from touching me, my eyes go so large that I feel the muscles straining. My pulse raises another notch and pure and complete terror is the only recognizable expression on my ashen colored face.

   He draws his hand away, and my intense reactions are somewhat minimized, but not fully enough that I'm able to stop shaking.

   Raines practically whirls on Mr. Cox. "This girl looks like she could pass out at any moment. Were you not aware that she was sick?"

   Cox is baffled. "She was perfectly fine when she awoke, and all through the plan ride. I have no idea what could have brought this up. "

   For a moment it looks as though Dr. Raines is going to growl at him. Then he appears to judge the words as truthful. "Fine. But let's get this over with as quick as possible. Whatever ideas you'd wished to present to me, I doubt that any of them have to do with her dying."

   "No, nothing like that." Mr. Cox replies with a nervous laugh, looking over at me through the corner of his eye. 

   Raines curls his lip. "Well then what is it? "

   "Ah yes, to business. Well, you can no doubt see the advantages to having the pretender's sister with us, and I'd been thinking of using Lia here as a stone of sorts."

   "A stone?" Raines asks raising an eyebrow.

   "Yes, you know, 'two birds with one stone'. If we could get a hint of sorts to the pretender that she has a sister, and that she's here at the Centre, she'd no doubt come to rescue her. But who knows best how to get in and out of the Centre?"

   "Jarod." Raines gives a small smile then, liking where this was going.

   Cox returns the grin. "Yes, Jarod. We set up a trap, and catch within it both master pretenders. Two birds, one stone."

   Dr. Raines nods. "And what happens to your 'Lia' here afterwards?"

   He shrugs. "Well, it depends on whether or not she has skills as a pretender. If she does, put her to work in the sim labs, if she doesn't, you can either kill her or use her in one of your experimentations or projects. I know you're always in need of more…subjects."

   "Yes, I rather like that." Then Raines eyes fill with suspicion. "And the Triumvirate will be fine with this?"

   Mr. Cox pauses. "Well I can't very well keep them out of it. My loyalties are to them first. But…" his smile returns, "You were after all, the Triumvirates private watchdog for a few years. I think that as long as certain things were taken into consideration, we might not have to involve them at all until you've succeeded."

   Raines doesn't miss the casual, 'consideration' comment. "What would I have to consider?" he rasps.

   Cox's grin becomes almost feral. "Perhaps sharing some credit with me? After all, it was my idea and keen eyesight that spotted the girl."

   "And if I choose not to?"

   "The Triumvirate still has not forgotten the rather embarrassing incident where you and the director's son lost **_two_** valuable projects. I dare say that if something were to happen again, you'd receive more than a demotion." 

   Raines clenches his fists in anger but then realizes that he's boxed in. "Fine." He concedes grudgingly. "I don't see giving you half of the credit as any problem."

   "Good. Then it's all settled. You'll take the girl's blood, and then move her to a more…secure location I take it?"

   "Yes."

   Mr. Cox then seems to be avoiding something. "You ah, you would be giving her her backpack though perhaps?"

   Raines scrunches up his face in confusion. "Why would I do that?"

   "Well, to learn about her. Perhaps she'd do something that would reveal more to you."

   "Yes…or perhaps you're going soft." Raines sneers.

   Cox gives him a lethal look. "Don't bet on it." his features relax slightly. "So, will you?"

   Raines glances back over his shoulder at me, and then faces Mr. Cox with an unreadable expression. "Fine. She can have her backpack."

   Mr. Cox takes the news with a slight nod and then turns and leaves.

   Dr. Raines brings his attention towards me once more, and strangely enough, while I'm shaking and shivering and sweating, alone with a man who makes my skin crawl, and about to be taken god only knows where, all I can think of, is how nice it would be if I were unconscious again.

10:27 AM

Pensacola, Florida

Florida Airport

On An Commercial Plane

**(Jarod) **

"Please buckle your seatbelts, as we will be taking off into the air shortly." A stewardess says to the passengers calmly and sweetly, waiting for everyone on the plane to comply.

   I've already buckled myself in, and am looking out the window at the airport, waiting for the plane to lift off. 

   I still can't believe I'm going back to Delaware, of all places. It's as though some invisible force is always slowly dragging me back there, and the farther away I get, the sooner and harder the call for me return is. I can't help but feel slightly like a lemming, tailing the leader in front, going along with their plans, ready to follow them to wherever they may lead, even if they lead me to a cliff and tell me to jump. But Astrea needs me, as many people seem to, and I can't help but worry for her safety. The implications of her… her 'sickness', for lack of a better word, are simply terrifying. It seems that even though she's out of the Centre they still have some collar around her neck, some leash that keeps her from getting too far away. It's a leash that extends to all of us, whether we see and feel it or not.

   I sigh, my mind weighted down with glum thoughts, and close my eyes to rest.

   "Excuse me sir."

   I open one eyelid, and my brow furrows as I see a stewardess standing in front of me, her hand soothingly and encouragingly resting on the shoulder of a small boy, who looks no older than eight.

   "Yes?" I ask, sitting up and completely focusing upon them with a friendly smile.

   The stewardess seems relieved that I haven't bitten her head off, and then nods her head in the direction of the child who is curiously gazing about the plane. "I don't wish to disturb you sir, but due to an error our computers made with the seating arrangement, I'm afraid this child has nowhere to sit. You wouldn't mind letting him have the seat next to you would you?"

   I nod. "Sure, it's no problem at all."

   "Thank you so much sir," the woman replies, thoroughly pleased. "We were getting worried that there would be nowhere for him to sit.

   I stand up and move out of my seat and into the aisle to allow the boy to take the seat next to the window. The stewardess gives one last smile, hands the little boy his small backpack, and then turns and walks away to go back to work.

**_Nine minutes later…_**

   We lifted off of the ground seven minutes ago, and though the take-off was unexciting for me, the little boy I'm seated next to, who so far hasn't said a word, seemed to have thought otherwise. The little tyke had gripped the armrests like they were life preservers and he was adrift in the Pacific. Since then, he's been clenching his eyes shut and shaking in silent terror, looking out the window periodically, only for a second or two, and then snapping his head back around to begin shaking once more. 

   I'm beginning to suspect that he's afraid of flying.

   I give a worried sigh as he looks out the window again. Then, before he has a chance to begin shaking, I clear my throat to get his attention. He turns slowly and looks at me, as though noticing me for the first time.

   "I'm sorry mister. Am I bothering you?"

   I shake my head. "No, you're all right. I was just wondering what your name was."

   "My name?" the little boy's blue eyes get wide. "Oh. It's Johnny." He pauses for a moment. "What's yours?"

   "I'm Jarod." I smile and hold out my hand.

   He takes and shakes it, a bit nervously, but then seems to see that my intentions are truly friendly, and graces me with a grin.  

   "So," I say, leaning back in my seat, "what are you going to Delaware for?"

   "I'm going to go see my grandpa. I'm going to stay with him for a few weeks." He suddenly lights up. "My grandpa lives in this big, big house, and he's only a little bit away from the woods, and when I talked to him on the phone, he even said he'd take me fishing at the river!"  

    I can't help but laugh. He sure warmed up fast enough. "That sounds like fun." Then I raise an eyebrow. "Your parents are letting you go all this way on a plane by yourself?"

   He looked down at his Spiderman sneakers timidly. "Well, my parents had offered to drive me, or to let me take a bus, but I… I told them I wanted to fly."

   I was confused. "You did? But it seems like, well, like you're afraid of flying."

   He shakes his head vehemently. "I am! I'm terri-… terri…" his face scrunches up in concentration.

   "Terrified?" I supply.

   He nods enthusiastically once more. "Yeah, that's the word! I'm terrified!"

   I'm confused. "But if you're so fearful of flying, then why did you choose an aircraft as your initial choice of transportation?"

   I receive a blank look.

   Oops! I'm doing it again… "Um, if you're afraid to fly, why did you want to go on a plane?" I say, struggling to use simplistic words to get across my meaning.

   "Oh, that." He crossed his eyes and his tongue hung out of the corner of his tight mouth as he concentrated. "Well, you see, it's because if I don't want to be afraid of flying anymore, I have to fly."

   "I'm, I'm not sure I understand." What is this kid talking about?

   " Have you ever been really scared of something?"

   I immediately nod. I think my paranoia would just about cover it.

    "Well, the only way to not be afraid of something is to face it, like…like with my fear of flying." He gazes out the window. "I can be so scared of it sometimes, and I'll even have nightmares about the crashing and burning of a plane I'm on in my sleep. But if I don't ever fly, then… life will be no fun." He gives a small shrug. "You have to go through it, you have to…to fight it almost, head on. If you don't, you'll never stop being afraid. My mom told me that fear is just an emotion; she said emotions could be overcome. I have to fly on a plane, and show myself that it's safe, before I can overcome it." 

   He turned and looked directly into his eyes, purity and innocence shining through radiantly.

   "So you see mister Jarod, you have to face your fears, or well… or they'll control you. Do you understand?"

   All I can do is nod silently, taken aback in more ways then one.

   He smiles. "Good." He then goes back to looking out the window.

   I lean back in my chair, my whole body almost sinking into it. _You have to face your fears, or they'll control you… _I shake my head softly, and proceed to close my eyes, feeling a sudden and urgent need to rethink some of the decisions I've been making these past few days.

   And the plane flies on.

************************************************************************************

Hoped you like this chapter! I'm glad it could get it out sort of soon, but don't expect my next one to come so swiftly. I'm working on like three stories right now, but I'll still try to get this one out in no more than four or five days. Until then, see you later!

   P.S                                    

     PLEASE REVIEW!!!   = ) 


	7. Emotion

**Disclaimer:** I own not the people from the Pretender. This is my own little work of fan fiction. If you want to argue it needlessly with a lawyer, call 1-800-IMA-IDIOT. Have a nice day! ~~~~ Oh, and the song belongs to AM records.

**Rating:** PG or a PG-13

**Summary:** A hint at Lia's true nature, Broots finally gets to eat, and a tender moment with Sydney and Ms. Parker.

**_!!!Author's Note!!!:_ I've just realized (being the totally oblivious idiot that I am) that I have not once described how Lia looks. I will attempt to remedy that in this chapter. Thank you for your overwhelming patience with my ineptitudes.**

**Feedback:** (Shadow Elf has ditched Yoda, who told her before he left that she's powerful or some other nonsense, and she's now trying to find a place to bard her stories inside of a rather dingy bar)

   [Scanning the room] "Okay, come on, come on… [Spots an alien and then jovially walks over] "Excuse me sir, but I was wondering if you'd like to here a story of mine and give me feedba-" 

   (The creature growls and she hurriedly backs away) "Ok-a-a-a-ay, never mind." [Crosses her arms] "Darn. I might as well fly somewhere else and try my barding skills, because no one here is going to help me."

_Han:_ Did you say that you need to fly somewhere?

   "Yeah. Who the heck are you?"

_Han:_ [Puffs chest out confidently] I my young friend, am the talented and popular Han Solo!

    (Every head in the bar immediately turns to them)

_Unknown speaker:_ You're Han Solo?

_Han:_ Y-e-a-h.

_Unknown speaker:_ Let's get him!

   (Everyone begins closing in on the two with hate in their eyes)

   [Raises an eyebrow] "Popular huh?"

**Quote:**

        **"All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusion is called a philosopher."  **

**                                                                                                            ---**_Ambrose Bierce_

************************************_ShadowElfBard_**************************************

11:35 AM, Wednesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

SL-26, Astrea's Old Cell

**(Lia)**

I've stopped shivering and sweating, which I hope is a good sign, and I am out of the horrible doctor's office, but I can't help but feel like I've jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

   I'm seated right now in a cold, dank, and dark cell. I know that sounds cliché but I have no other words to describe it. There's a ventilation shaft opening, and a rather militarily styled cot, along with a few 'necessities' conveniently placed in a slightly concealed area. Besides those though, the room is nothing more than a dungeon with cameras.

   I have been left alone for the most part, for which I am grateful, and besides when they took some of my blood, no one has said or done anything to me. I know however, that the Raines guy was extremely curious as to my reaction towards him, which only intensified when he gave me the shot. But personally, I don't blame him. I'm just as confused as he was, maybe more so. I'd felt as if I'd been wrapped in a blanket of icy darkness that had been leeching away my very soul. If I wasn't an amateur poet, I wouldn't even be able to describe that much. I've never felt anything like that before, and I must say that I don't look forward to the idea of it ever happening again.

   I'm still mightily puzzled as to what this place even **_is_**. At first I'd thought it to be some corporation, it had easily appeared that way, but then again, what kind of corporation kidnapped children and had cells underground? I mean, unless this is some type of covert military instillation that I've read so much about in books, I'd have to say I have not the shadow of a clue as to where I am, much less why I'm here.

   I sigh heavily, the exhaling of breath holding all of the frustrations and hopelessness that I am unable to speak aloud, and then lean up against the cement of a wall. Who would have guessed that a simple search for a family member could be so darn difficult? If I get out of this place, I might just give up the hunt for my sister all together. I've never been one to be called brave, and going through another episode like the one I'm in would be too much for the miniscule amount of courage stored inside of me to handle. 

   I look over at my backpack that's leaning up against my pathetic excuse for a bed, and can't hold back a smile. Of all the weird traits for a kidnapper to have, Mr. Cox's have to be the strangest. Wanting to strike up a conversation with the person he's captured, kindly giving them the freedom to use their hands, and (for Christ's sake!) letting them hold on to their personal belongings as they sit in a cell. It's about as bizarre as an executioner letting the person they're going to execute watch a DVD. I keep looking around expecting to see Rod Sterling in his patented black suit, standing off to the side and introducing me as the main character of a Twilight Zone episode.   

   Frankly, I wouldn't be all that surprised if I **_did _**see him. 

   I gaze around the room, wondering what to do, because I'm downright bored, and then shrug and with a mental, 'what the heck', go over and open my backpack to search for a CD to play.

   I find my SPIRIT CD, which I received last Christmas from my mother, and pop it in, using the search button to jump ahead to a soft yet powerful song that I think fits the situation.

_Sound the bugle now - play it just for me_

_As the seasons change - remember how I used to be_

_Now I can't go on - I can't even start_

_I've got nothing left - just an empty heart_

I close my grass green eyes, and my rose tinted lips firmly go into a straight line as I surrender myself to the song.

_I'm a soldier - wounded so I must give up the fight_

_There's nothing more for me - lead me away…_

_Or leave me lying here_

My head begins to move slightly to the melody as the rhythm picks up, and my shoulder length chestnut brown hair sways in the windless cell. I feel a sudden flush to my pale skin that comes with the energy of the song that almost drowns out the color of the few freckles on my cheeks.

_Sound the bugle now - tell them I don't care_

_There's not a road I know - that leads to anywhere_

_Without a light I fear that I will - stumble in the dark_

_Lay right down- decide not to go on_

For a moment my slim but rather delicate body feels the urge to stand up and sway to the words, and only the logic of the foolishness of the action keeps me from doing so.

_Then from on high - somewhere in the distance_

_There's a voice that calls - 'remember who you are'_

_If you lose yourself - your courage soon will follow_

_So be strong tonight - remember who you are_

_Yeah you're a soldier now -fighting in a battle_

_To be free once more…_

_Yeah that's worth fighting for!_

The song ends, and I feel much more relaxed and peaceful, like all of the bothersome emotions had been replaced by the ones from the steady tempo of the music. I feel almost as though I could just slip smoothly and silently into a heavenly slumber.

    That's when I hear the metallic banging coming from the other side of the room.

   Ideas I had of sleeping gone, I stand up hurriedly, and fearfully look over at the air vent opening where I'm sure the sound is coming from. I back up until I'm against the wall, and almost close my eyes in fear as I hear the noises come closer and closer.

   There comes the soft squeaking of hinges and I watch as the gate to the vents is pushed open slowly and a man crawls timidly out.

   I can barely suppress a gasp as this strange guy moves to a crouch on the ground and just stares up at me, watching with astoundingly clear blue eyes every breath I take. He seems remarkably feral, like a whipped dog in some ways, and a curious cat in others. He then moves closer to me.

   "M-m-my name Angelo. In trouble, need sister. Follow Angelo, find sister." 

   I'm baffled and astonished all at once. 

   He takes a step towards me and gently takes my hand.

   Then all I am, is frightened and in pain. 

   And so is he it seems. He lets go of me as though my skin were fire, and scurries backward at a surprising speed. I too withdraw, and nearly fall to a heap on the ground, rubbing the hand he took a moment ago so vigorously that the skin begins turning red. 

   The man clutches at his head and moans, his eyes almost rolling back, and fervent muttering comes forth in a near incoherent stream of babble.

    "Like me, like me, like me, like me, like me, like me, like me, like me…" he speaks the mantra over and over again, as if it were a chant at a ritual. 

   He looks into my eyes once, and I see in them the same confusement that lurks in my mind, and then he turns and practically leaps back into the vent and shuts the door to the opening behind him.

    The strange reaction I had dissipates and I'm once again alone.

12:09 PM, Wednesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Raines Private Office

**(Broots)**

I'm screwed.

   There's no other word for it. I'm totally and utterly screwed.

   I need to get the title of the project I found to someone, someone like Sydney, or Ms. P, or heck, even Jarod! But with Raines watching my every move, making sure that I come in contact with absolutely no one, it's becoming harder and harder to think of ways I might actually pass off this information and survive the process. 

   I've already finished the encoding of the document, and have even been able to resist the urge to try and read it. It hasn't been easy though. After all, if I'm going to risk my life trying to give someone the info on the project, I at least want to know whether it's worth it or not.   

   I sigh and lean back in my seat, my stomach quietly and angrily growling at me. I still haven't eaten. I swear that if I don't get some food in me soon then I'm going to try and break down the door with a chair. I don't know how much longer I can go. I didn't have dinner last night, or breakfast this morning, and if they think that I'm going to skip lunch as well then…um well, they, they have another thing coming. 

    I give a weak laugh and run a hand over my head. Oh, who am I kidding? I couldn't stand up to Raines unless I was drunk, and with a heavy drink at that. I'm afraid courage is not one of my strong points, and the worst part is that he knows it too.

   I hear the locks on the door being undone and I immediately straighten in my chair.

   I nearly gasp in surprise as I see Willie enter, alone and unaccompanied. He stands like a rock and folds his arms, his face expressionless as always.

   "Y-yes?" I ask, trying to figure out what he'd be doing here without Raines.

   "Are you hungry?"

    I nearly do a double take. "Am I what?" 

    "I asked if you were hungry." Willie repeats in exasperation. "Mr. Raines has given you permission to head down to the Centre's dining facility if you are. Or you can stay here and work. **_I_** really don't care either way."

   I could have kissed him right then, I'm not lying. The idea of food…out of Raines' office…in a semi-public place…  I leap up from my chair. "Yes please! I'm hungry, I'd like to go!"

   For a moment it looks as though Willie is holding back a laugh, but then he returns to the impenetrable wall of steel I know him so well as. "All right then. Mr. Raines also said that he wants you to bring along the encoded document. Someone's supposed to pick it up." He turns slightly. "Now, let's go." 

   "'Let's go?' As in, let **_us_** go?" I inquire in confusion; grabbing the zip disc I saved the document to as I do so.

   "Yes." A smirk appears on his face. "You didn't actually think that Mr. Raines would let you go by yourself did you? He's not stupid enough to allow you to go somewhere public in the Centre where you could talk to Dr. Green or the chairman's daughter."

   "Oh." My bubble popped, I visibly deflate.

   Willie shakes his head and gives a 'tisk, tisk' of disapproval. "You have a lot to learn about working under Mr. Raines, Broots. So here's lesson number one: property and employees are the same thing to him, and he keeps a close eye on both."

   Oh boy. Will I be tagged as well? Broots: number 00128. I might as well wear prison clothing and have the word 'mom' tattooed on my arm. Just when you think things can't get any worse something jumps up and bites you in the rear. The story of my life…

   "Are you coming or what?" Willie demands.

   I give a slow and sulking nod and follow him out the door. 

~~~~~

Somehow being surrounded by the seductive smells of food drives away all brooding and moping. 

   I scan the fancily designed dining area with eyes as large as plates. It's been a while since I've been here, mostly because in my extremely casual and bright garb I stick out like a glow stick in a black room. 

   I follow the waiter, a tall spindly man with slicked back black hair, and I'm led to a booth that is fortuitously placed near the back wall of the room in a secluded enough area that won't draw too much attention to myself. Whether this is a stroke of luck or the waiter's purpose, I'm unable to tell. 

    I sit down and take the menu that the waiter hands me. He then pulls out a pad of paper and a black pen. "What would you like to drink today sir?" he asks with a slightly haughty tone that seems to be a requirement for all extravagant restaurant waiters.

   "A coke will be fine." I reply, and then begin to look over the offered items.

   "A-a coke?" he repeats in disbelief, nearly choking on the word. "I'm sorry sir but are you actually ordering an ordinary, common, run of the mill **_coke_**?"

   I look up slightly puzzled. "Uh… yeah?"

   " Do you desire diet or regular?" he asks mockingly, his lips curling into a sneer.

    I don't notice his tone. "Regular's fine. Oh! Also, could you just bring it to me in the can?"

    The waiter looks as though he's going to gag. "Of course sir. One regular coke…in a can. Coming right up." he looks at Willie who's still standing. "Anything for you sir?"

   "No, thank you." Willie replies in a near monotone.

   "Okay." Says the waiter, tight-lipped. "Fine." He then trudges away in a huff.

   I watch him go, not understanding his reasons for acting so strangely. I shrug it off and then scan over the menu. A lot of this stuff is way out of my price range, and half of it I've never heard of. I then find something I know I'm safe with and then set down the menu. 

  I look up and see Willie, arms still crossed, standing beside me.  
   "Um, Willie?"

   He glances down at me. "What?" 

   "Do, do you really have to stand there? It's uh, well, it's unnerving."

   He doesn't even bat an eye. "So?"

   "O-okay then. S-sorry." I finish weakly, and twiddle my thumbs uncomfortably as I stare down at my lap.

   I risk a look up at him once more, and notice something that catches my eye, and piques my curiosity to the point where I'm unable to stop from asking about it. "Willie, where did that bruise come from?"

    Surprised, he is shaken from his usually unmovable stance, and he actually appears startled at the question. "What bruise?"

   With almost childlike innocence I point up to a healing black and blue mark that is nearly unnoticeable on Willie's dark skin. "That bruise, the one on your forehead."

   He raises a hand to the spot where I'm pointing and a near dozen emotions flicker across his face. One of them, I notice, is tension. 

   The sweeper suddenly narrows his eyes. "It's nothing. I tried to prevent the Pretenders from escaping, and Elf 17 knocked me unconscious." He raises an eyebrow at me. "What about your bruise?"

   I turn a shade of crimson, knowing that he's talking about the mark on my brow that **_still _**hasn't managed to fade away from my skin. "That? Uh, I got that from As- Elf 17 too." I say, catching myself on his near slip-up. "I tried to um, s-stop her at the cabin."

   "You did?" Willie asks, and I can't tell whether he believes me or not.

   "Yeah. I… I did."

   We both just stare at each other for a few seconds, and as strange as it sounds, I almost feel like a type of kinship is passing between us, like we both have gained a mutual level on at least one thing. I give him brief smile and I swear that he almost returns it.

    "Are you prepared to order?" 

    The return of the waiter and the soft 'ping' from the can of coke he's set down on the table effectively shakes me out of my trance and I give a sheepish grin. "Uh, yes, yes I think I am."

   The server reluctantly nods. "Then dare I ask what it is you would like to eat?"

   "A cheeseburger and some fries will be fine thanks."

   The man stands still, and his left eye twitches. "A cheeseburger and fries. Are you sure that is what you want sir?"

   I nod.

   Then I nearly cringe. 

   The waiter is giving me a look of complete fury, and I'm not entirely certain that he won't strangle me with his bow tie. Still giving me a death glare, he grounds out with a loathing in his voice that's so obvious it's painful, "Very well."  

    He then snatches away my menu before turning on his heel and walking away, steam almost rising from his head. 

    I give a low whistle at the guy's remarkable and perplexing anger, and open my can of coke to begin downing its contents.  

   Bored, I scan the room, looking over the many people. It appears busier than the times when I've come before, but I could just have a bad memory. There seems to be the same running theme in appearance and clothing with all of them. Every person, be they eating, drinking, or discussing business, is dressed in a tailor made suit and is wearing a very serious formal expression. Every suit is black, gray, or dark red, and there are perhaps only two woman wearing dress pants instead of skirts. Boy, in my khaki pants and loose, baggy Hawaiian colored shirt, I must look like a five-year-old in an opera house. But still, why all of the grim colors? Even if it **_is_** the Centre, even if it **_is_** a horrible, horrible fate for anyone to have to work here, why can't they try to make the best of it? Like that guy over there in the white suit, he seems to be---  

   Wait…a white suit?

   A white **_Armani _**suit?

   Holy sh-t.

   I immediately turn my head away from the spot my eyes have unfortunately gazed to, but not fast enough. He sees me, gives that grin that makes me want to throttle him and whimper in fear at the same time, and stands and walks towards me, his sweepers following like ducklings behind him.   

   I suddenly become extremely engrossed in the coke can's design, and hunch over better than Igor ever could. Willie's brow furrows in bafflement, but smoothens once he sees Lyle and his lackey's approaching. It doesn't take a Pretender to put two and two together.

   Lyle stops at the booth, and gives a brief nod of acknowledgement to Willie before sliding into the seat next to me, completely blocking me off as I'm forced to sit between the wall and Lyle. 

   It's like being trapped between a rock and titanium. 

   The other sweepers gather around the table, two of them sitting in the other booth seat across from me. Willie and one of Lyle's sweepers glare at each other, much like two soldiers from opposite sides of a war would. Some of the employees sitting at their tables briefly look over at us, wondering perhaps who it was that would draw the attention of Lyle and his goons, but they turn away quickly enough. The first rule of survival at the Centre is to stay out of other people's business.

   Unable to stand the near deafening silence any longer, I force myself to swallow and look up at Lyle's cold, cruel blue eyes.

   "Y-yes sir?" I ask with a mouse-like timidity. Good, submission is very good. Keep it up Broots and you'll get out of this alive. 

   Lyle doesn't even seem to take notice of my query, and relaxes in the booth, making this meeting look for all the world like the conversing of two college buddies. "So what brings you here Broots?" He briefly glimpses the can of cola and his grin widens. "Coming out of your hole for a bite to eat?"

   I slowly nod, my eyes on the table.

   Unexpectedly, Willie breaks in. "With all due respect Mr. Lyle sir, the meaning of you're arrival has already been explained to us by Dr. Raines. I think that it would be best for both parties if business were taken care of as soon as possible." He says this all in a neutral tone, his voice never once rising above the level of placidity.

   Lyle glares at him and his smile disappears momentarily, but just as suddenly as it leaves it reappears again in full force. "Of course Willie. Once again when it comes down to dealings or meetings between Raines and his clients or partners, you are the voice of reason. "

   The compliment has no visible effect on the sweeper, but Willie politely inclines his head and gives a calm thank you. 

   Now I understand what's going on. The person who was supposed to pick up the disc from me is Lyle! He's not coming here to punish or torment; he's only coming for the disc! Oh thank god! Almost instantly I am reaching into my shirt pocket to bring forth the object that will free me from this momentary hell.

   I carefully hold out the disc for Lyle, a bit more confident now that I know this is all just business. "Here you go sir, I encrypted the document with a code of an approximate 132 bit strength, just as requested." _Now please go away_, I add on silently.

   He takes it, and gazes down at the shining zip disc in his hand before looking at me again with that damnable grin of his. "How long did it take you to create the code and encrypt the information?" 

   I'm taken back by the question. What an odd thing to ask… "Uh, the code took about two days and I finished the encryption process last night." I answer uncomfortably, wondering why he still hasn't left.

   He gives a low chuckle. "What on earth compels you to work so speedily and efficiently?"

   "Umm, the words 'self preservation' come to mind," I reply weakly.   

   He laughs and gives me a pat on the shoulder that causes me to shudder slightly. He doesn't notice however. "If only the others who worked here kept the same motivation in mind. Perhaps they'd work as well as you do."

   Anything I was going to say to respond to such a weird statement is cut off, as the waiter returns with my burger and fries.

   "Here you go **_sir_**," he says handing me the plate with a nearly lethal scorn. He doesn't even seem to notice the crowd of sweepers surrounding the table. It must be common in this place. 

   "Um, thanks," I manage to say without sounding too pathetic. "I uh, I appreciate it."

    The waiter narrows his eyes at me, doing one of the best Ms. Parker impressions that I've ever seen. "You'd better." He gives a sudden and uncharacteristic smile to Mr. Lyle. "Glad to see you today sir." After Lyle politely nods the man turns on his heel and strides off, happy to go away from me to serve someone who knows the meaning of fine dining.

   I stare at the cheeseburger, a double decker from heaven, and I have to force myself not to begin salivating. I have to hold back from digging in, if only until Mr. Lyle leaves. 

   "W-was there anything else sir?" I ask him, hoping he doesn't hit me.

   Lyle pauses for a moment, and I'm afraid that he'll give me work or pat me on the shoulder again, but he then slowly shakes his head. "No, no there isn't." he smirks. "See you around Broots. Keep up the good work."

    He rises from the booth, and then saunters off and away my line of sight, his muscle men trailing close behind him. 

    Finally.

    Without looking up to see Willie's reaction at what just took place, I attack my burger and close my eyes to let this rare moment of pleasure brighten up my otherwise awful day. 

1:04 PM, Wednesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Sydney's Research Lab

(Sydney)

"3489" the two red haired twins answer together punctually.

   I laugh. "That is exactly correct boys. Good job. I think we're done for the day, why don't you two go off and play?" I begin putting away the marbles that I dumped out, and the twins start giggling and chase each other around the room in a disorganized game of tag.

   I shake my head at their antics and chuckle softly.

   "Syd!"

   I gaze up coolly and see Ms. Parker stalking towards me, her eyes practically aflame. She's clenching her fists and appears to be in a very foul mood. I wonder what could have gotten her so riled up? Then again, I wasn't here for half of the day yesterday, perhaps something happened while I was gone.

   "Yes Ms. Parker?" I ask tranquilly.

   She stops in front of me, and indeed she looks as though she's ready to kill someone. "Where were you yesterday Sydney?"

   "Your father pulled me into his office to discuss the hunt for Jarod, and afterwards I was so aggravated by his stubborn attitude that I just went home."

    Her mouth hangs open slightly. "You just…went home?! And left me here to answer the phone when that sanctimonious lab rat called?!" She's openly fuming now and I'm sure that she growled a moment ago.

   My brow creases in confusion. "Jarod called?"

   "Yes Jarod called," she snarls. "You know your protégé, your little lab experiment, your screwed up adoptive son." 

   I'm stung by the last retort but hide my feelings towards it. "And what did he have to say? Or did you just hang up on him?"

   "No, I listened. But he didn't make it easy for me," she sneers and then moves over and sits cross-legged on the table. "He had a hell of a time actually getting to the information, but he finally told me where Broots is."

   I'm immediately five times more interested. "He knows where he it? Is Broots all right?"

    "As far as I can tell. I followed wonder boy's instructions and went to see him." her eyes lock with mine, and I can see the anger and pain behind them. 

   Oh no. "Where is he Ms. Parker?"

   She lets out a deep sigh. "He's working under Raines in the ghoul's private office."

   I take calming breaths to steady myself as I process the information. Poor Broots… Working under Raines? I thought that Raines took him for the idiot that we'd all made Broots out to be. How did he see through that act? It must have been the T-board Raines was put in front of. Elf 17 did tell him that it was Broots who found the info…

   "How is he doing down there Ms. Parker? Did anything happen?" I'm eager now, fishing for information on the technician who I've come to see as a friend. If anything should happen to him I'll never be able to get it off of my conscience. I have enough on there as it is.

    "As far as I could tell he hadn't been sleeping, and his clothes needed to be changed, but he was all right. A little worse for wear, but all right." She impatiently gazes around the room. "I was going to get him out of there Sydney. I'd planned on it, I'd been all ready to grab his arm and drag him out if I had to." she clenches her teeth in rage. "But then my brother and the corpse showed up, and I could do nothing more than turn my back on him and walk away."

   "Ms. Parker I'm sure you did all that you could." I look upon her fatherly.

   She reacts in a sudden surge of fury. "I walked away Sydney! I abandoned him! He looked up at me Sydney, pleading with me to save him, and I turned and fu----g walked away!!!"

   I gaze at her sadly, wanting so much to hold her and let her cry on my shoulder like she did when she was a little girl. But I know I can't, and I know that any attempt I make to do so will result in her just pushing away from me further. It still hurts so much though, to see her in such torment and not be able to help and provide the comfort she needs and longs for.

   "Are you all right Parker?" I ask softly, knowing full well that she isn't, but also realizing that right now all I really can do is ask.

   She wipes angrily at tears that could have fallen. "I'm fine Sydney. Just…just frustrated that's all."

   I make a quick and perhaps rash decision, and tenderly lay a hand on her shoulder. She stiffens, as I'd expected her too, but then she's overwhelmed by her emotions and she does the most surprising thing.

   She embraces me with a hug.

   She just stands there, leaning on me, her face resting on my shirt, and her arms wrapped around me gently, as small wet tears cascade down her cheeks. I hold her close, providing the reassurance that I've waited for years to give, and have to hold back tears of my own. The implications of this act, the fact that she willingly chose to let me hold and console her… it's simply remarkable.

   "I miss him Sydney." She whispers, acting more like when she was a child than I've ever seen her be before.

   "It'll be all right Ms. Parker. We'll get him back."

   And as we stand there, simply clinging to each other and sharing the relief that is brings, I hope that she finds more comfort in my words than I do.

************************************************************************************

Another chapter up! Yay! I'm sorry it took awhile to get this one up, but I'm also right in the middle to two other stories that I'm trying to finish and post and I had to move from one house to another and take down and set up my computer. Please forgive me for the delay, and keep on a lookout for the other stories that I hope will appear soon. Please review!

   P.S.

     Just in case you're interested I've changed my bio. Also, I have a challenge that I'd like to issue. Should I put it in the disclaimer-rating line-up?

  --------Talk to you soon!


	8. Christmas Shopping

**Disclaimer:** I don't even own the socks on my feet.

**Rating:** PG---PG-13

**Summary:** Astrea and Jarod meet up in Delaware, and run into a bit of trouble…****

**!!!Author's Note!!!: Okay, there is a controversial subject that I will be bringing up in the first segment, namely religion, and though it is an extremely small part and you probably won't care anyways, I entreat you to remember that they are just thoughts and opinions of a character or two. If you are truly offended by it, I'm afraid that you are taking this story way too seriously. I apologize for any insult you may feel, (_though I'm not truly sure how you could be but know that it's wisest to prepare for such a reaction_), and hope that you can just accept it as part of the intricate weaving of my fabrication. If for some reason you feel you have no other choice but to do so, I cannot hold you back from sending me flames. Just understand that I will very likely ignore them, as I have no tolerance for those unable to let someone express their own views and beliefs. My rambling is done, and you may now read the fiction. Thank-you!!! ;)**

**Feedback:** (Luckily for our rather unlucky bard, Han Solo managed to blast a way out of the bar without being beaten to a bloody pulp. He, and Shadow Elf, are both now in a docking bay, preparing to board Han's ship, the Millennium Falcon) 

   "This tin can is supposed to fly?" [Raises an eyebrow at him] "Exactly how thick do you think I am?"

_Han:_ Look, either you take it or leave it. I don't have to fly you off world, you can stay here if you'd like.

   "Fine. I'll go." [Grumbles] "Jerk."

(They both go up the ramp and the door to the ship slides open, revealing the wookiee Chewbacca, Han's partner.)

   [Jumps into Han's arms in fright.] "Ahhh! It's a giant deranged killer mutant monster hairball!"

**Quote:**

    **"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."  **---_Albert Einstein_

**********************************_ShadowElfBard_****************************************

2:48 PM, Wednesday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Blue Cove Mall (Thought I was going to say 'Centre' huh?)

Floor three

(Astrea)

"Wow, this place sure is…bright."

   The comment I make is agreed upon by Arthur, who gapes along side of me and stares with wide eyes at all of the lights, tinsel, decorations, fake snow, and monstrously huge Christmas tree that is adorned and embellished from trunk to tip with glistening ornaments. I'm especially drawn to the shimmering and radiant five-pronged silver star that looks made of crystal. The entire building resembles a jewelry box, filled to the brim with gold and shiny baubles.

   "Arthur?" I ask tentatively, still astounded at the change of scenery, "why are all of these things up? What's going on?"

   He looks down at me, a bit amused and baffled at my inquiry. "You don't know? "

   I shake my head no. 

  Sadness and pity cross the English man's features. "You poor child. You've lived fifteen years of your life without ever knowing what goes on out here haven't you?" He sighs. "The reason for the decorations is because in a few days time it will be Christmas. The tinsel, garland, stars and tree are to acknowledge and emboss the upcoming holiday."

   "A holiday?" My eyes light up. "Jarod and I experienced Thanksgiving together, is it like that?"

   He chuckles. "A bit, yes. It all has to do with the basic Christian religions. Christmas is a time for them, and others who celebrate the event, to rest and spend time with family and friends and think about what truly matters in their lives, while those who follow the religion also remember the birth of Christ."

   I take it all in with only a smudge of confusion on my window of understanding. Mr. Raines had taught me about most of the main religions, and he had explained them as ways for people to have something firm and solid to believe in an ever-changing world, as well as a way to give them false reassurances about death. Personally, I don't see it in quite the same cynical light as he does, but the point is that I know about religion. And frankly, as Arthur explains more to me about what happens on this 'Christmas' holiday, I find that I like the idea and the basic principle behind it. It's a religious holiday that can be participated in and have meaning for those who don't even believe in the religion itself. I enjoy the concept of giving of yourself, of providing happiness to young and old alike, and spending time with loved ones. I'm also greatly amused by the idea of old jolly Santa Claus and his flying deer.

   _Hmmm… perhaps I should purchase some gifts. One for Willie, Jarod, Broots, Angelo, and Arthur. I have no doubt that Jarod will be buying some as well, and it could be an insightful experience._

"Astrea?" Arthur asks hesitantly, effectively bringing me back to reality,  "are you quite all right?"

   I give him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine Arthur, just thinking."

   "About what, may I ask?" he inquires with a raised eyebrow but a good-hearted smile.

   "About how long until Jarod is scheduled to meet us here and if there could possibly be any extra time I could use to shop."

   He pauses thoughtfully before he speaks, glances down at his watch, and then back at me. "If my out-dated sundial of a timepiece is correct, I believe that we do indeed have an hour before his scheduled arrival. I'm sure that would be plenty of time for you. Perhaps I could find something myself, though I'm not at all sure who I'd give a **_gift_** to."

   I grin, noticing the mischievous gleam in his eye.  "I'm sure you'll be able to find someone Arthur, just as I will. Should we go explore this magical wonderland on our own then, and meet back here in oh, say…forty minutes?"

   He sticks out a mitten-covered hand. "I'd say that's a fine idea Ms. Broots."

   I give a playfully exaggerated shake. "Why thank you Mr. Norman."

   We both chuckle, and then wave good-bye to each other and go our separate way, ready to begin stalking the halls of this large, glittery, and over-populated mall.

2:53 PM, Wednesday

Same Place

Floor Three

(Jarod)

"You better watch out, you better not cry, you better be good I'm telling you why…" I sing softly to myself as I walk down the hall, carrying a large shopping bag at my side. I love this time of year. All of the caring, the love, the gatherings of joy… in some ways it makes up each year for the Christmas's I missed at the Centre. It also helps to reinstall faith in people's ability to be good and kind.

   I nod my head in polite acknowledgement to a teen who is pointing at me with her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with humor. Her friends along side her are also laughing, and I just grin and wink, whistling as I walk by.

   Boy, you'd think that they never saw an elf hat and ears before.

   I glance down briefly at the bag in my hand, searching through it and mentally trying to think of what I have to purchase next. My plane arrived half an hour earlier than schedule and I've been spending the time shopping for my… friends in and out of the Centre. No matter how paranoid I may be I can't keep from spreading the Christmas spirit. I bought Sydney a Beethoven collection, Astrea a very well made journal-like notebook with a silver etched wolf on the front, (to match my own red notebook), and I bought Broots a "Funky music" CD. All I have to do now is hunt down Ms. Parker's gift.

   A store catches my eye and I stop, and then make the decision to go forward and check it out. Inside are shining statues, ornaments, stuffed animals and various jewelry. I browse the sections; my eyebrows rose appreciatively, and then accidentally bump into someone, causing the person to fall to the ground. I quickly hold out my hand for him to take, and apologize nearly three different times.

  The person who I ran into, a man with glasses, a sweater, and woolen gloves, gives me a hesitant smile and readjusts his specs.

   "No, no it's quite all right," the man says with an English accent, cutting off my apologies. "I didn't see you there. I was in too much of a hurry." He holds up a necklace that shines in the lighting. "I'm just too anxious to purchase this gift. It's my very first Christmas in the states."

   I grin, somehow already liking this guy right off the bat. "Where are you from?" I ask, knowing already but wanting to make small talk.

   "England, Wales specifically. They have some of the most beautiful gardens there you know."

   I nod. I went there once, for only a few days, but I found that they do know how to take care of flowers. "Planning on staying here long?" I begin to move down the aisle as I talk, and as I predicted, the friendly Englishman follows beside me.

   "Well, I suppose that depends upon how my… 'Job' turns out." His eyes lit up and he leans in close, as though sharing a secret. "I'm somewhat of a secret agent at the moment."

   I raise my eyebrows, though it is only for the benefit of the man beside me. I've already concluded that he definitely isn't the agent type. But, the lie is harmless enough. I'll let him try and impress me. 

   "An agent? Wow, that must be exciting."

   "It is." He frowns. "Well, at least I hope it is. So far it's been rather dull."

   "Is it now?" I'm only half-interested at the moment, as I've just spotted something that has very good potential at being Ms. Parker's gift.

   "Oh yes." He continues on, oblivious to the lack of attention I'm giving him. "Right now my colleague and I haven't even spotted any opposition. Its all been just traveling and waiting for our contact. Why, he's not even coming by helicopter even! Just a boring old airline."

   That comment brings my head around to look at him more closely. "Who's 'he'?"

   "Mmm? Oh, his name is Jordan, or Jacob, or… or some thing like that."

   I blink. "Or Jarod?"

   He snaps his fingers. "There we go! Yes, the chap's name is Jarod. But I probably shouldn't even be telling you this…" his eyes narrow with suspicion. "You aren't one of the opposition are you?"

   I keep on my kind-hearted look, but a little surprise and confusion enters my eyes. "No. Actually… I think I'm your contact."

3:09 PM, Wednesday

Same Place

Floor Two

(Astrea)

   I can't believe how much variety there is here! I've only had to go in perhaps four different stores and already I have nearly every gift I've planned on buying.  There are tons of people here, and with good reason. The mall is most assuredly the easiest place to find what you need. It's no wonder that the words I just used are what they have as their catch phrase. 

   I've already purchased gifts for everyone on my mental list but Angelo. Then again, he is one of the harder people to find something for. I stop walking for a moment, sorrow taking over my features as I stand in the middle of the hallway, everyone just walking past me.

   Angelo… has he ever before received a gift? Have his years and isolation and his strange mannerisms really made everyone forget of his existence? Is he nothing more than a messenger to bring cryptic hints? For all he's done, has he truly been overlooked? I try to convince myself otherwise as I begin to move again.

   No, surely not. If no one else than at least Jarod would have given him something. I know that Jarod's nature would cause him to buy something every Christmas for the pursuit team; surely he would give something to Angelo as well. He couldn't ignore Angelo. He just couldn't… could he? I shake my head violently, the ebony strands of my hair hitting my face. Snap out of it! How can you even think to doubt it? Jarod is the most kind and loving soul you know! He would never, **_never_**, actually fail to pay attention to Angelo. He would have given him just the same amount of notice as he had the pursuit team.

   I nod to myself and then wipe my mind clear of the topic. It's time to think of other things. 

   Spotting a shop that appears to have the wide enough range of items that I need to choose from, I make a beeline over, trying to politely get past the swarms of people in my way. 

   Finally inside I begin scanning the area when an idea comes to me. Angelo travels the air ducts of the Centre… it has to be really cold, and it **_is_** winter after all… maybe he could use a sweater. I smile, liking the idea immensely. A sweatshirt would be perfect. And one with a hood too, since he always likes to remain hidden. Oh he'll love it!

   I nearly jog over to a clothing rack with jackets, sweaters, and sweatshirts and begin going through them at a rapid pace. Too bright… too big… too orange… too decorative… ah perfect! I unhook and bring out a black sweatshirt with a hood and that has, cascading down the sleeves like miniature rivers, light blue flames. I nearly cry out at its perfection. 

     I approach the clerk, who then promptly rings it up for me with an almost mechanical speed and precision. He hands me the bag with my gift inside, and I reach out my hand to take it, but then he pauses, and his eyebrows narrow. I stop as well, nervous and wondering why he's looking at me so, thinking something's wrong, but then I'm relieved when a sudden grin breaks out on his face.

   "Love your elf ears," he compliments, handing me the bag. "Totally realistic. You go all out for Christmas huh?"

   I blush, though it's more at the fact that my ears were even noticed. "Eh heh, yeah. "

   "Have a merry Christmas!" He shouts, waving to me as I leave.

   I repeat the gesture, though with less enthusiasm. "Yeah, you too."

   I purse my lips as I stroll once more into the hallways, beginning to head back to the meeting spot. Well, better to be thought of as an elf than a feral pretender I guess. 

   I wonder if Jarod's here yet…

3:31 PM, Wednesday

Same Place

Floor Three

(Sam the Sweeper)

I think that the worst part of Christmas is becoming an errand-boy for Ms. Parker. 

   Don't get me wrong, I mean I love working for her, love how I'm able to see the truly good person inside of her, and generally just love being around her. I don't think I could ever see her as anything but an employer and, (should there be no security cameras to hear it), a friend, but I still think myself lucky just to know her. 

   But really, filling out her Christmas shopping list and purchasing all of these gifts for her to give to co-workers and such is just degrading of my position. Not that I should be surprised, after all I've been running errands and carrying out impractical tasks for her over the span of nearly two years now, and this is really nothing new. It's just strange is all, to be running around picking up things at the mall while I'm supposed to be this big muscular and stony sweeper. Oh and don't even get me started on the time she made me try on the dress when she went clothes hunting with Debbie. That was just humiliating.

   I shake my head in exasperation at the memory, my big burly arms carrying multiple shopping bags form the various stores I've visited. Boy, if she wasn't the woman she was I would have just flat out refused to carry out this task, even despite the forty dollars she gave me to pick out my own gift. I'm just not a person who likes to shop. I frown. Then again, maybe I'm the only one, because from the way my companions acted, just leaving me to hunt down the items on my own, you'd think otherwise.

I told Stan and Jones to be here at the fountain nearly an hour ago. Those two sweepers are really taking this trip too lightly. I shouldn't have even accepted the ride from them. I wouldn't have if I'd known they'd be out shopping together in the mall just totally ignoring the strict schedule I'd established. I mean you ask them to follow simple instructions, be at the water fountain by three-thirty, and they can't even do that much. What are sweepers becoming these days?

   I sigh in annoyance and sit on the edge of the fountain, the sound of the water shooting up behind me soothing me slightly. I scan over the crowds. There sure are lots of people here today. They seem to just flock to the mall whenever the holidays come up. One of these days this building is just going to get too big and it's going to explode from the pressure. Or implode, I don't know which. I'll leave the technical terms to the Pretenders. 

   As I'm leaning back on my elbows, yawning and ready to look at my watch, someone catches my eye. I feel this strange feeling of déjà vu, as though I've seen that person before… and then it hits me with the force of a ten ton sixteen wheeler.

   I leap up, still holding the bags, my eyes wide in recognition and shock. "ELF 17?!"

  She stops and turns slowly, and I see the horror in her features. Our eyes remain locked for a moment, and then she takes off at a sprint. 

   I fumble with the radio in my pocket and then bring it up to my face. "Stan, Jones! Get your butts up to floor three! I've just spotted Elf 17!!!"

3:33 AM, Wednesday

Same Place

Floor Three

(Jarod)

   I frown as I watch Arthur hand the clerk his gift, so that she can wrap it for him. I'd really hoped to get Ms. Parker's gift here. I have something rather… special planned as a way to get certain presents distributed, as well as keep the pursuit team out of my hair for a while, and time is running out. I suppose I'll just have to search elsewhere, after all there are plenty of other 'fish in the sea' as the overly clichéd phrase goes.

   With my hands in my pockets, I scan over the store again with a last gaze, just looking out of boredom, when my eyes bulge at the sight of something that, if it really is what I think it is, I must get. I walk over hastily, trying to politely squeeze through certain people in my way, and then finally make it to the shelf that the item rests upon.

   I pick it up with tender and scrupulous care, and my heart melts and my eyes water at the sight of it. It's a porcelain angel, small and adorned in an ethereal white robe, with a golden halo slipped sideways on the figures head, giving it a childlike innocence. But that's not what captures my attention. No, what makes me suddenly drawn to it and that causes waves of emotion to buffet over me, is the angel, in almost painstaking detail, looks just like Faith, right down to the small and delicate hands that lovingly hold a baby robin with an injured leg.

  Without even looking for a price tag, I affectionately carry the miniature statue over to the desk and place it gently down on the counter, and then begin fishing for my wallet. 

   The woman behind the desk picks up the scanner and turns the figure over to scan the price tag, but then pauses, and her lips purse.

   "Hey Jerry?" she calls back to a man who is stocking some of the shelves.

   "Yeah?"

    "This one doesn't have a price tag," she looks over the angel confusedly, "and I don't remember seeing this is stock. I'm not even sure if it's one of ours."

   Jerry jogs over and she passes it to him so that he can look it over.

   My eyes widen, worried that they might refuse sale. "Please," they look at me. "I really need to purchase that gift. It holds significant meaning for the one it's intended for. I can pay you whatever price you desire, but I just need that statue."

   Jerry opens his mouth, and from the look of his face it seems he's ready to refuse sale, but the woman grabs his arm quietly.

   "Come on Jerry," she whispers. "It's near Christmas. Let the guy have a break."

   He grudgingly nods. "Alright. We'll just match it up with our own figurines." He types in the price of twenty-five dollars and ninety-eight cents, and I happily hand him two twenty's.

   I thank them both profusely as I'm handed back my merchandise and change, and then stroll out of the store.

   As I walk out, my face practically aglow from the small shopping triumph, knowing how much Ms. Parker will appreciate it, I suddenly stop. Wait a minute…where's Arthur?

   I begin searching the crowds that are walking past me, worried thoughts in my mind as I try to piece together where he could have gone, and then, near an open benched area in the middle of the walkway, I hear singing. 

   Mystified, I turn and begin to move closer to the cheery and light melody, the gathering of singers becoming clearer with every step I take. There are some people crowded around them, listening to the holiday choir and praising them with smiles.

_"Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?_

_In the lane, snow is glistening_

_A beautiful sight_

_We're happy tonight_

_Walking in a winter wonder land"_

Then I spot him, near the front of the group of spectators, slowly moving his head back and forth to the music with his hands, still covered in his odd woolen mittens, clasped behind his back. I approach him, and tap lightly on his shoulder. He starts at first, but then recognizes me and nods quietly and trails behind me as I walk away from the carolers.  

   I stop near a fake plant that's been dressed up with tinsel, and fold my arms, much like a scolding parent.

   "Why'd you leave?"

   "Well you had obviously found something of interest within the shop and the music… well, it seduced me into going to listen." He shrugs. "After all, it's not like I was in any danger.  I was planning on leaving with you to go meet up with Astrea as soon as I'd finished listening to the song. I knew you'd find me."

   I shake my head, exasperated. "Oh, all right. But let's get going now, I think that it's already a few minutes past the time you two had planned on, and I don't want to make her wai-"

   I break off as sudden shouts of, 'hey!' and 'watch it!' come closer to us. Suddenly, Astrea bursts out from a large crowd and zigzags her way past various patrons.

   "Astrea?" Arthur asks, her actions baffling him.

   His voice catches her attention and with obvious relief she sprints over. "Oh, thank god you're here. Look, we need to get going right no-" she sees me for the first time, and her mouth hangs open slightly. "Jarod?"

   I smile. "Yeah."

   She's about to speak but is cut off when my name is called out again in a loud shout filled with puzzlement and urgency.

   The three of us spin around and see Sam and two other sweepers coming out of another large crowd, their guns drawn.

   Arthur's eyes widen comically. "Oh my." 

   The first shot is fired by one of the younger, trigger-happy sweepers at Sam's side, and it's nearly an inch off its mark and goes into a plastic manikin's arm. The customers all scream and go down on the floor, covering their heads with their hands. 

   Wasting no time, we all turn and run, though as we do so we try to get as much distance between us as possible to make for harder targets. Strangely enough, none of us have let go of our shopping bags. Huh. Weird.

   I can hear the futile yelling of the sweepers behind us, telling us to stop. Yeah, right. Like we're going to just stand still and let you capture us. Save your breath. Also, mingling with the noise of the sweepers, our feet as we run, the corny Christmas music on the mall's speakers, and the screams of terrified civilians, is the distinct sound of mall police, (rent-a-cop's) giving orders to others on different levels. Great. Now we have to evade them both. I should have known something like this would happen; it always does whenever I meet up with Astrea. I'm beginning to think that it's a sign of some sort, but I can't for the life of me figure out what it means. Ah well.

   "Turn right!" Astrea orders us, following her own commands as she does so. We go after her and begin pushing our way through the large throngs of people, looking back ever so often just long enough to recognize that the sweepers are indeed still following us. Where in the world did they come from? There is no plausible cause as to why they should have been able to locate us and arrive at the mall before us, and I refuse to believe that this is a mere coincidence. There is no way they'd be here for any other reason then to catch us. Raines doesn't hula, Lyle doesn't watch Telatubbies, and Sweepers don't shop at the mall. These are the things I know.

   We are nearing the doors that led out to the parking lot, and I pray to high heaven that Astrea has a car for us to get out of here in because there sure isn't enough time to hotwire one. 

   I watch as Astrea suddenly stops moving and when Arthur and I slow down, waves her arms in a motion that clearly tells us to hurry up.

   "Keep going! Arthur will lead you to the car! Just swing around the front side of the building for me!" Immediately after she says this, she turns and runs back in the direction of the sweepers. Arthur is frozen for a second or so with indecision, but a soft, though meaningful shove from me gets him going again. 

   "Don't worry about her," I tell him, "she knows what she's doing."

   At least, I hope she does.

3:44 PM, Wednesday

Outside Of The Same Place

(Astrea)

   Man I hope that those two did what I said. I know that for some anomalous reason men always feel this unexplainable urge to be all chivalrous and needlessly put themselves in danger for a woman, and at this point acting upon that urge would not be brave, it'd be idiotic. 

   I see the three sweepers burst through the double doors, nearly knocking over a sixteen-year-old boy as they do so, and I cease moving seven yards away from them.

   They stop and meet my eyes, their fingers itching for their guns.

   I hold their gaze and give an extremely well done impression of Jarod's patented smirk, before running off to the left.

   I can hear them trailing after me, as I'd known they would, and as soon as I turn the corner and know that I'm in front of the mall, my head starts turning wildly as I try to pick out Arthur's car, clinging to the hope that they will drive here in time. If they don't show up soon I'll have no choice but to face the sweepers on my own and I would sincerely like to avoid any physical confrontation. Right now with my unstable transformation, I'm not sure how much control I'd have over my own actions. 

   And that's when I hear the lovely and almost musical honking of the car horn. 

   I give a grin that reaches and fills my eyes, and I jog towards it. They drive alongside of me and after they slow down slightly, I jump in.

   And then Arthur hits the gas pedal and we speed out of the lot, leaving a few seriously pissed off sweepers in our come around.

************************************************************************************

Yeah, I know that you're most likely angry that it's so short, but look on the bright side-- I was able to post it up earlier than I would have. That's a good thing right? Right? Oh, and the Challenge I was talking about earlier has been typed up and posted on my Bio, so please go check that out and attempt to write something on it. Also, if you plan to give it a shot, do you think you could either review me or e-mail me and tell me so? I'd really appreciate it. Thanks and please review!!!

-----Talk to you later!


	9. Jarod Pisses Off The Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters and (yawn) yeah, whatever. You know what I mean. 

**Rating: **PG or PG-13 

**Summary:** Jarod pisses a few people off, and Lia is taken to be tested for Pretender skills.

**!!!Author's Note!!!: Okay, for something that I'm setting up to work, I need to move the day forward one. So, "pretend" that when Jarod and Astrea were at the mall, it was Thursday, not Wednesday. Thursday okay? Sorry, for the inconvenience, and you can go back to reading now!**

**   P.S if you haven't guessed what Lia is, you're practically handed the information in this chapter so don't fret!**

**Feedback:** (The narrator can't think of a cute little story for this chapter and so I'm just going to beg for feedback like the pathetic creature I truly am.)

   [kneels down on the ground and straightens clothing] Ahem. Oh please give me feedback!!!! I have a mother, father, and little sister!!! Feedback is what keeps me alive!!! Without it I am nothing but a worm!!! A hopeless, small, and wretched worm!!! [Gets up and bows formally while audience cheers for the stunning performance]

**Quote:**

**"I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves."**   ---_Ludwig Wittgenstein_

*************************************_ShadowElfBard_*************************************

4:21 pm, Thursday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Indeterminable Location

(Sam the Sweeper)

Oh man did we screw up. We had them, we **_had_** them god da---t! And we let them give us the slip. Yet again. It shouldn't come as any surprise I suppose, but still it lowers one's morale to fail at your job. Especially when it happens over, and over, and over again. Ms. Parker's going to murder me…

   "Hey Sam!"

   I turn my head back around, still trying to keep my eyes on the road as I drive back to the Centre. "What?" 

   Jones' eyes twinkle with amusement from the backseat. "Me and Stan were just wondering what it is you'd like written on your tombstone, and if we could have your CD collection."

   They both start snickering and I scowl. "Oh funny, very funny. You guys are a riot."

   They calm down slowly, and Stan looks at me, still trying to keep from laughing. "Oh, don't take it so hard man, we're just having a bit of fun."

   "Yeah," Jones adds on, coughing back a chuckle. "Besides, we all know that the ice queen is going to be royally pissed when she finds out what happened. We were just trying to make you feel a .little better."

   I scoff at that loudly, as I focus once more on the road. "Sure."

   Stan leans back in the seat, and puts his hands behind his head. "You know what I don't get Sam, is why you're even going to tell her."

   "How can I not tell her?" I question in incredulity. "She's Ms. Parker for Christ's sake!"

   Stan shakes his head. "Look man, all I know is that even if she is the biggest fish in the pond, and even if I wouldn't fight her for all of the money in Brooklyn, it doesn't mean that she's immortal. She's human, just like you and me, and that means that she can't possibly know **_everything_** that happens. Just conveniently forget ot mention it." 

   I give him a look of disbelief, dumbfounded by his ignorance. " 'Conveniently forget to mention it'? You have no idea who it is you're talking about."

   Jones rolls his eyes to the ceiling of the car. "Come on Sam. Stan is right, she won't find out if we don't tell her." 

   "That shows how much **_you_** know," I retort. "Did you know that she gets calls from Jarod?" 

   Stan laughs. "So? What's he going to do, call her up and tell her 'hey guess what? I got chased by your sweepers while I went shopping'?"

   "You'd be surprised." I then narrow my eyebrows. "Hey, where did the idea that he went shopping come from?"  

   "Gee I don't know, maybe it was because he had those plastic bags of his in a death grip?" Stan shakes his head in an almost remorse at my stupidity. "Stop pretending Sam. We all know that he went to the mall to go shopping, just like we did. Why he came to Blue Cove to do it though, is beyond me." 

   Beside him Jones frowns. "Everything that that weirdo does is beyond us. Sometimes I wonder if he's really all there. You know they say that there's a fine line-"

   "Between genius and insanity," I finish for him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But we're paid to bring him in whether he's loonier than Bugs Bunny or not. And so far, we've been failing miserably."

   Jones folds his burly arms and grumbles quietly.

   I drive on, the car filled with silence. Maybe I should do what Stan suggested. It's not all that important for me to tell her right? After all, informing her of a simple spotting of the elusive pretender would do nothing more than anger her. She'll find out sooner or later that he's in Blue Cove, and when she does I won't get shot. Yeah, I like that.  

   I smile to myself. I like it when I have good ideas…

6:32 pm, Thursday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Ms. Parker's Office

(Ms. Parker)

"Hand me another one Marie," I growl at the technician who hastily complies with my order.

    I'm seated at my desk right now; under the fluorescent lights they've recently installed throughout the Centre, signing various sheets of paperwork. It's all that I've really been doing today. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. They're not even remotely interesting documents either. Mediocre budget cuts, and formal protocol. This employee has a day off, this one is sick, that one's been transferred. It's all so meaningless really. I'd rather be looking at a DSA that Broots has snuck out of an archive, or checking out an old lair of Jarod's, or even discussing philosophies with Freud. But no, I'm doing ordinary, boring, and totally pointless paperwork.

   Suddenly slicing through the almost drowsy silence is the ringing of the phone upon my desk. My hand shoots out and grabs it, and, just in case, I shoot a look at Marie telling her to start tracking down the signal.

   "What?" I bark out in my personal yet highly clichéd fashion.

   "We really have to work on those people skills of yours Ms. Parker," I hear Jarod scold into the phone.

   "They work just fine for me Wonder Boy," I taunt as I lean back in my chair, wondering if I can keep him on the line long enough for the signal to be traced. "So what brings this irritating call? Found something on my family? Ready to dig up another sickening habit of my psychotic brother? Come up with a way to get Broots back on the pursuit team where he belongs?"

   "No, no, and no I'm afraid. Just wondering what it was you're doing and wanting to ask if you've ever seen red rocks before."

   My eyebrows shoot up in confusion. "Red rocks? Are you in Arizona?"

   A chuckle comes from the other side. "Ah, ah, ah Ms. Parker. A magician never reveals his secrets."

   "Jar-" but I'm too late and the line is disconnected.

   I look eagerly over at Marie, and she gives me a grin that stretches nearly the entire width of her face.

   "Its traced ma'm. I have it."

   "Well where is he?" I demand, my heart pounding happily. _I've got him…_

   "He's here ma'm, in Blue Cove. According to the computer he's in a closed down warehouse near the pier." 

   I smile at the response and get up smoothly form my desk, already moving towards the door. With this information there is no way that I'll be stuck here doing any more paperwork. Red rocks my cute little ass. I can't be fooled that easily Jarod… 

   I stride out into the hall, ignoring Marie's questions as to where I'm going, and then spot Sydney off in a corner, stuck talking with Mr. Thumbs.

   "Syd?"

   He turns towards me, relief clearly evident in his eyes. "Yes Parker?"

   "We have the freak's location, let's go." I jerk my thumb behind me.

   My evil twin is startled. "Jarod?"

   "No, its Tippy the hairless monkey," I respond with thick sarcasm, rolling my eyes heavenward, and then turn back to the psychologist. "Now come on Sydney, we traced a call he made but if we don't get there soon…"

   Sydney furrows his brow. "You traced the call? But Parker, Jarod wouldn't make a mistake like that. He-"

   "He has," I snarl. "Look, ever since he was turned into an amnesiac he's been paranoid. You've seen it as well as I have. Face it Freud, your pet's overactive imagination and encompassing fear has caused him to slip up. He made an error, a fault, a blunder, an oversight. Now we have him, and I say let's go get him." 

   I turn and begin walking away, when Lyle calls, "hey what about me?"  

   I spin around. "What **_about _**you?"

   "Aren't I coming as well?" 

   My lip curls. "No." 

   He returns my scowl. "I am still part of this Pursuit team. You have to take me whether you like it or not."

   I clench my hands into fists but bite back a retort. "Fine," I ground out, none too happy about granting his request. "You can come. I can't stop you anyways."

   He grins. "That's more like it."

   As I move down the hall once more, despite the fact that I have to take the psycho, I'm able to smile. _It's on Jarod, and this time there'll be no escaping me. _  
  


6:48 pm, Thursday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Abandoned Warehouse Near The Docks

(Ms. Parker)

I shoot my brother (I wish) and Sydney a look warning them to remain quiet as we approach the warehouse. We got here perhaps five minutes ago and had decided to park the car a block from the warehouse so as not to warn our prey that we'd arrived. I'm going to go for the speedy, smooth, and silent attack this time. There'll be no 'give it up!' or 'there's no escape Jarod!' Warnings are pointless, and my breath is too precious to waste.

   I quickly cock my head towards the door that we've surrounded, ready to give the order for it to be opened, when Sydney's hand suddenly grabs my arm. 

   "What?" I demand quietly through perfectly clenched teeth. 

   "Parker, I don't think we should go through with this." 

    I ignore the concern and worry in his voice. "What are you worried about Sydney? Afraid that I can't bring Jarod in on my own without the sweepers to back me up? If that's it then let go of my arm because I can handle him better than those bumbling idiots can breathe."

   His eyes narrow. "That's not it Parker and you know it."

   I simply glare in response and shake him off of me. Then I turn to focus on Lyle. "Ready?"

   He holds up his gun and gives that mad grin. "Always."

   I bust open the door and we run swiftly inside. I don't even notice that the door's closed behind us as I point wildly from one area of the room to another, my gaze concentrated and searching for the lab rat. Then I finally pull away from looking at the trees, and actually notice the forest. 

   The room is a stereotype of every children therapist's waiting room. It's painted a dazzling, almost startling yellow with funny, cute little cartoons and clouds painted upon it. The room is decorated with pink fuzzy chairs, light green and blue blowup furniture, and tons and tons of stuffed animals with smiles that seem frozen in time. Against a wall are three white book cases filled to the brim with children's books, a vivid violet toy box next to them, and three different kids beds. There's a flat screen TV hanging on the wall plugged into a DVD player, and a sparkling and slightly gaudy Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of this strange world. Underneath it is three presents. There's a song playing, and I recognize it as the "It's small world" song from the ride at Disney land. I look around for a stereo, and realize that it must be playing out of a hidden speaker. 

   All in all, the room is very, very, **_bright_**.

   "My god," I breathe in disbelief. "I've died and landed on PBS."

   My brother has lowered his gun, and his eyes are wide and darting. He's obviously trying to come up with a way to envision something evil and ruthless, but everything is so soft, fluffy and G rated that his attempts are failing miserably.

   Sydney's inspecting the beds, and he calls me over.

   I stand by him, and after I follow the trail from his pointing finger to the bedposts, my mouth opens in shock. I look at the other beds as well, and notice upon them the same exact thing. Painted in a glittery gold on each bed, are our names. One for Sydney, me, and my twin.

    "What the hell is going on?" Lyle nearly yells, close to hyperventilating as a result of all the niceness about him.

   That's when a faint click is heard from the other side of the room, and we turn and see the TV come on.

   "Jarod," I growl.

   The nearly life size version of him waves happily. "Nice to see you too Ms. Parker."

   Sydney and I share astonished looks and the picture of Wonder Boy chuckles. "That's right Ms. Parker, this is a live feed. There is a tiny little camera hidden here that you won't be able to find, but that let's me see you, Sydney, and that demented monster you call a brother."

    "What do you want Jarod?" Sydney asks calmly.

    "What do I want?" he narrows his eyes and becomes visibly angry. "Why, I want a lot of things Sydney. Namely my family and complete freedom from the hell that you work at. But right now all I want is for you three to be out my way for a while." He looks around the room. "Consider this to be your home away from home for the next day or so." He focuses upon us and smiles. "Because you won't be going anywhere."

   Lyle immediately bolts to the door where we'd come in, and though he pulls and yanks, it doesn't budge. "It's locked!" he wails in a childish tone that makes me roll my eyes.

   I turn my attention back to Jarod, who's smiling irritably as the realization of our captivity comes into perspective. 

   I fold my arms. "So now what Frankenstein? I refuse to believe you'd be so bold as to just lock us in here. After all, what would we eat? What about going to the bathroom? And how the hell do you think you'd escape the reprimands of my father and the Centre?" 

   "What you'd eat is in the sparkling toy box over there, some special treats I picked out, and there is a door to a very beautifully designed bathroom facility on your far right. As to your 'reprimand' concern, I can only be punished if I'm caught, which I plan to make sure never happens." There's the grin again. "I hope you all enjoy your stay. I rented 'Barney and Friends', along with various 'Care Bear' DVD's if you get bored, or you can go read 'Curious George'." He looks over the room (his creation) once more and gives a thoughtful sigh. "It's beautifully innocent isn't it? It took over three hours to put together, even with the extra help I received."

   Lyle focuses upon those words. "You have Astrea with you! You're breaking into the Centre!"

   Jarod feigns surprise. "Oooh, it **_does _**have a brain, even if it is an itty bitty one." His eyes then twinkle in an almost alluring tenderness, as he looks straight at me, all mockery gone from his face. "The present's under the tree Ms. Parker," he whispers. He looks at us all and speaks in a louder voice, "oh, and to leave, there is a toy that will turn on every nine hours to give you a clue as to how to get out of here. I advise you not to shoot it." And then, in correspondence with his annoying personality, he's suddenly and abruptly gone. 

   I'm in a stupefied daze from all that has just happened. Jarod has locked us in. I'm a prisoner, in a bright yellow room, surrounded by stuffed animals and comforted by "It's A Small World"…. And I I'm with Sydney and Lyle.  

   I…am locked in…with Lyle.

   Again.

   I look down at the gun in my hands and contemplate death, wondering whether or not it could possibly be any worse than this.

6:59 pm, Thursday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Holiday Inn

Room 109

(Jarod)

"You do know that the woman on the other side will possibly kill you if she has the chance, correct?"

   I chuckle, still putting away the recently bought equipment used to talk to the Pursuit team. "Yes Arthur, I'm aware of that."

   He nods. "Ah, good. So I'm not the only one who noticed the glares of death that she gave you."

   I turn away form him with a smile of amusement, and notice that Astrea stands in the corner of the hotel room, her arms folded and the crinkles in her perfect forehead showing the deep contemplation she's in. Something is worrying her.

   "Astrea?" I ask tentatively, as her back remains turned to me. "What is it?"

   She swivels slowly and looks at me, and I see the pain in her eyes. "Where is Broots Jarod?" she questions softly.

    "Broots?" I use my skills as a pretender to sound confused and uncertain. "What do you mean?"

   She clenches her fists at her side, and I'm aware that she's battling her transformation. I better be more careful of her more passionate emotions, they could very well put me in danger.

   "You know exactly what I mean Jarod! I noticed that when we were purchasing items for and putting together the trap you laid, preparations for Broots had not been made. You even advised against me leaving my gift for him there." she walks close to me, anger fueling her movements. "You knew he wouldn't be there. Why was Broots not with them?"

   For a moment, all I can do was stare at her in silence. What an idiot I'd been. I'd forgotten that she's also a pretender. I've spent way too much time being the only one I suppose, that I wasn't able to see how easily she'd understand my actions. Well, now I'm paying the price.

   "The reason," I say slowly, "is because he is no longer on the pursuit team."

   She stands, stunned, but hiding it well. She then crosses her arms. "How did this happen?"

   Arthur is behind me, confused about all that is going on, but knowing enough to stay quiet and not get involved.

   I run a hand through my hair. "The Triumvirate had him under suspicion before, as you know, and that alone gave them enough reason to believe he could have helped us out of the Centre. They couldn't prove anything, and didn't want to lose him because of a probability, and so instead they transferred him to a division where he'd be out of the way in the hunt for us."

    "Well where is he now?" she growls, her eyes flashing briefly.

    I'm about to open my mouth to speak, but then think better of it. I can't tell her where he's been put. If I do she won't look for the info she needs tomorrow and will instead try to "free" him, causing more problems. I have to keep her in the dark.

   "I don't know," I answer, feeling horrible for having to do this to such a kind and innocent soul.

   After gazing with an almost impossible intensity into my eyes she clenches her jaw and tilts her head back in defiance. "I know you're lying to me Jarod. I don't know why, but frankly I don't care. Broots is my friend, one of the first people who saw me as a person. You can keep you mouth shut, I won't try and pry it open, but tomorrow I will find out, and you can't stop me." Tears brim in the corner of her sparkling green eyes. "I'm going down to the clerk. Suddenly I don't feel like sleeping in this room tonight." 

   She nods her head, bids us goodnight, and grabs her bag before quietly and smoothly leaving the room, the door softly clicking shut behind her.

   I stand frozen, my face betraying the astounding shock that's sweeping over me. I feel as though I've been slapped.

   Arthur blinks at me in amazement.  "Bloody hell Jarod, just how many women are you going to piss off tonight?"

7:18 pm, Thursday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

SL-25 

Pretender Training Room

(Lia)

I don't understand anything anymore; everything is going so fast, so impossibly fast. 

   I look up at the burly men who are forcefully leading me through the halls with open fear. They came for me a few minutes ago, and not a word has been spoken since they hauled me out of my cell. I had, (and still don't for that matter) not an idea where I was going or why, and I doubt that I will find out until I'm actually there. 

   But that will be too late for me.

   I'm led through double doors that are made of steel, and undecorated save for a faded sign above proclaiming this as a 'pretender training room'. I shiver involuntarily, and take on a whole new level of fright as I'm assaulted by old feelings and emotions that seem to seep from the room like odors from a forgotten time. I feel ready to gag, almost choking on the stench of it.

   We enter and, predictably, the doors are locked behind us by more MIB wannabe's who flank the exit stoically. I'm led forward and the gorilla's that hold me halt in front of the demented doctor I've been trying to erase form my memory. I still try to worm away from him, because it's as though he wears some repellent perfume that causes my stomach to churn and my eyes to water. I have trouble standing still and not fighting my captor's openly, but ever fearful of reprimands I manage by sheer strength of will to remain straight and unmoving.

    Raines scans me over once more, and I shut my eyes against his penetrating gaze. I can sense that he's turned, and so I take a chance and carefully watch him.

   He faces a sweeper, a well-muscled, dark skinned man who, strangely, does not scare me, and speaks to him in low tones, though I can hear the conversation well enough.

   "Everything's prepared?"

   "Yes sir. All equipment and such is ready and waiting."

   The doctor inclines his head in acknowledgment. "Good. Set up the first slides." He pauses for breath, "we'll start her slowly."

   "Agreed sir," The man says nodding slightly. "I'll set it up."

   The man walks calmly over to a screen and projector, and Raines brings his focus back towards me, though I quickly lower my eyes, not wanting the emotional assault I received the last time I met his gaze.

   "Do you know what is going on? " he wheezes at me, his hands folded behind his back. 

   I shake my head negatively.

   He seems disbelieving of that at first, but then purses his lips and continues on. "You are to be tested for an ability. There are people, remarkable geniuses, who have certain genes that enable them to enter the psyche of others, to become them in a way. By doing so they are everyone, and everything. From a mailman to a neurologist, they need only an hour or so of study before becoming the best in any field. In a way, they pretend to be others. Such is the reason they have earned the title of pretenders."

   I begin to raise my arms in order to use my hands to form a response, but the ones holding me are unwilling to allow movement. Raines frowns at them, inclines his head in a gesture to where they clutch my limbs, and they reluctantly release me.

   With the acquired freedom of my hands, I create my reply. Why do you think that I have this weird talent? 

   I see a gleam in his eyes of approval, and realize that he knows what information I was hoping to get out of his answer. " A very well-phrased question…Lia is it? Well, Lia, my theory is based upon the fact that your sister has it. It is very possible that the ability has been passed onto you."

   I see. I have to draw up some courage for my next question, but manage to phrase it well enough. What if… what if I don't have it?   

   And all he does in response is give a grin that freezes the very marrow in my bones.

    "Sir?" it's the bodyguard he spoke to a few moments ago. "It's ready."

   "Strap her in," he orders and then walks to the side of the room, pulling along the metallic oxygen tank.

   The man comes close to me and then gestures for me to follow him, wanting to give me a chance to either follow orders, or to let him drag me there. I choose to follow orders. I have no other choice really.

   I sit down in a chair positioned in front of a projection screen, and the African bodyguard begins to solemnly strap me to it, though he's careful not to make it too tight. I let out a sigh and try to ignore how cold the metal of the chair is, and the bodyguard, hearing my movement, raises his head and tries to give me a small, barely noticeable, reassuring smile.

   Our eyes meet.

  He nearly gasps, and his mouth hangs open slightly. I can tell that he sees something in them, though I can't tell from his jumbled emotions what it is. He walks away from me then, though I can tell he wants to run, and after announcing to Raines that I've been safely secured, he asks permission to leave. The doctor questions his motives, and his answer is that a Ms. Parker has been sneaking around Raines' office and he would like to make sure that it's safe. 

   The doctor immediately grants him his request. 

   And as the bodyguard strolls out at a quick pace, I wonder why he lied.

************************************************************************************

Hey! Yes, I am in fact, still alive and writing, and once again I apologize for my tardiness. It's summer, and there is much to distract one's typing. ;)

-----Talk to you later! Please review!!!


	10. The Illness Gets Worse

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it; I'm just using it to keep my sanity.

**Rating:** You should know by now.

**Summary:** Broots realizes that he has to contact Astrea, Astrea momentarily loses it, and the results from Lia's testing come out.  

**Feedback:** Yes please! You see, this chapter is super-short so I don't think that writing a story for one that's going to be over so quickly is a good idea. *~ Cough /excuses/ Cough ~* 

**Quote:**

**             "We are not retreating **-** we are advancing in another direction."**

**                                                            - **_General Douglas MacArthur _

************************************_ShadowElfBard_**************************************

7:27pm, Thursday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Raines' Office

(Broots)

Scowling at the slow computer I've been forced to use, I take another sip from the half-empty cup of cold java I've been drinking for the past hour. I really wanted to make the drink last, because I wasn't sure how much longer it'd be before I was able to have another food and drink break. So far they haven't been keeping a very regular schedule. 

   Sipping on the stale and decidedly unappetizing coffee, I resume working on some numbers for a new code needed to create a program, when, for perhaps the third time today, the door is unlocked and opened. 

   Willie enters swiftly, and in two quick strides is right in front of me. I nearly spill the hot drink and without meaning too, cower slightly as I remain in this tall and foreboding man's shadow. Willie however, wastes no time with waiting for my confidence to return, but instead reaches down and hauls me up by the collar of my shirt.

   I'm now effectively scared, and my eyes are wide and darting as I wonder what in the hell it is that I've done wrong.

   "Uh, W-Willie? What's going on?"

   He raises a finger to his lips, and then with a scrupulous eye, scans the room. Apparently satisfied he turns and looks back towards me.

   "Are you in contact with Elf 17?"

   The question catches me off-guard, and I immediately go on the defensive. " No, of course not."

   He shakes me, my head almost banging up against the wall. "Do not lie to me! This is important and I swear that if you try to lie to me you will not like the outcome!"

   "Why do you want to know?" I ask, aware that I'm digging a hole for myself but unable to keep from avoiding the question.

   "Just answer the question!"

   "What's you reason for asking it?"

   "Why won't you just tell me?!"

   "Because I don't want her hurt!" 

   There's a stunned silence between us, and horror creeps into my eyes. Oh my god, what have I done? What have I done?

   Willie's face becomes impassive and he releases his grip on my shirt.

   Once my feet touch the ground I back away, appalled by how easily I let the words come out. I've just signed the paper to seal my fate. I'm as good as dead now. What will happen to Debbie? How could I have been so stupid? 

   "So… you do know how to contact her," Willie says in an almost whisper.

   I close my eyes. There's no use pretending now. "Yes, I think I have a way to contact her."

   My eyebrows then shoot up in confusion as a look of pure relief envelops his features. He mutters thanks to a deity under his breath with an almost smile on his lips. I just stand still and quiet, baffled as always and with no clue as to what's going on.

   He seems to snap out of his trance and then focuses upon me, his eyes holding a hateful passion that makes me shirk away form him involuntarily. 

   "I have a message for you to get out to her. I also have information I want you to find. You will do both, and Raines will never know about either." He leans in forward, becoming even more intimidating. "Am I clear?"

   I shake my head. "No, no you're not."

   I fight the urge to take a step back as he looks at me with an expression frightening enough to scare shadows into hiding. His fingers twitch at his side, almost as if he's going to draw a weapon and bash in my skull with it. Whatever he's found, it must not leave much room for patience. But, despite the obvious urgency of the situation, I'm not going to back away meekly and carry out such a task without knowing why. Besides, at the moment I have the upper hand. He needs me for something, I need him for nothing, and although he can carry out the subtle threats hidden in his words, he doesn't want to raise Raines' suspicion. I have to know what it is that's important enough to drive him to do something not sanctioned by his boss, and I'm going to discover it while the odds are in my favor.

   After fighting, successfully I happily add, the urge to kill me and be done with it, Willie grits his teeth and grounds out with painful politeness, "how can I possibly make my directions clearer?"

   After swallowing saliva, I find the courage to once again say something to him that could be hazardous to my health. "It's not the directions that are unclear, it's your motives behind them. Why do you want me to do this?"

   He glares at me. "It's not your business."

   "It is if you want me to do this for you," I say, glaring right back. I'm surprised at my own bravado, wondering where I could have gotten it from, and then realize that more important things require my focus at the moment and leave the matter alone.

   Will seems to consider it, though with obvious reluctance. He'd probably expected me to be the spineless blob of jelly I usually am and unquestioningly do as he ordered. Too bad for him.

   Willie suddenly gives an exasperated sound of a mixed sigh and groan. "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you." his eyes take on the steel intensity once more. "You will do it if I explain my reasons?"

   Though it was more of a statement than a question, I nod my head affirmatively. 

   "Elf 17's sister is here in the Centre, and strapped down to a metal chair in the pretender training room."

   It takes a while for the blatant sentence to sink in, but once it has I almost go numb from shock. "She- she has a sister? Here? Now? Wha…" I find myself no longer able to form complete words, and fade off, my mouth still opening and closing periodically.

    Willie simply folds his arms, uncaring about my reaction towards the news. "I've told you why. Is it enough to satisfy your curiosity?"

   I nod my head, still gazing off into oblivion as I process what's been told to me.

   "Good. Contact Elf 17, tell her that she has a sister who's at the Centre, and then find out as much as you can about her."

   I don't even notice that he's gone, and that I'm once again alone. All I can do is stand there under the harsh glow of the florescent lights, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, and astonishment ruining any chance at forming a coherent thought.

   I can tell that it's going to be a long night. 

6:49 am, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Holiday Inn

Room 112

(Astrea)

I sit cross-legged on the hotel bed, my eyes staring as I reflect upon my thoughts and actions. I still can't understand why Jarod would lie to me; except for the fact that the information might be important to me and he thinks I'll be distracted form the mission. He needs to have more faith in me, after all I am the one who orchestrated this thing, and I think I should be the one to decide the importance of something in comparison to another.

   Sighing I lay back and put my arms behind my head.

   Then suddenly I sit up, my head snapping towards the door as I leap down off of the bed and begin slowly making my way towards the entrance. Someone's coming. I go low to the ground, growling softly, and as the door is pushed open I leap. 

   Arthur peeks his head in and when he sees me coming at him his eyes go wide and he backpedals.

   Unable to shift the direction of my jump I turn sideways and skid across the carpet as I land, the side of my stomach bumping into the door and, luckily, letting me regain my composure.

   As I stand up I curse myself softly for what I had attempted to do, and then bite my lip and slowly go out into the hallway. 

   Arthur's on his rear in the middle of the corridor, his glasses askew, his mouth in a comical "o", and his eyebrows raised. He watches me cautiously as I come out, but gives a wary smile and allows me to help him up as he judges me once again in a sane frame of mind.

   "You'd think I'd have learned not to enter your lair unannounced by now," he says jokingly. 

   "I really am sorry," I apologize, leading him into my room. "It's my… illness."

    He waves it off. "Oh, it's quite all right. You can't help it."

   We stand in silence.

   "So," I say, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. "What did you come here for?" 

   "Oh! Right, right, forgive me." He gives a sheepish grin. "Actually I came to see if you'd um… recovered, from your little quarrel with Jarod."

   Ahhh, so that's it. "Did he send you down here as an envoy?"

   He looks almost horrified at the thought. "Dear me, no. I doubt he even knows that I've left. He's getting a newspaper from the lobby at the moment. I came of my own volition." 

   "Well, then I suppose I can assure you that I'm fine. Recovered and rearing to go." I put on my best faked smile, and he buys it.

   "Splendid! I was worried that you'd stay mad at the poor man forever. " He gives me a placating look.  "He only has your best interest at heart you know."

   "Yeah, I know," I concede with a sigh. "I just wish he had a better way of looking out for me. Keeping back information doesn't help anyone in the end."

   "I have to agree with you there I suppose, but I doubt he'll change his mind." He smiles comfortingly. "Besides, the man does seem rather smart, I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

   I resist the urge to laugh out loud at the outrageous understatement. "So how did you find my room?"

   Arthur grins. "I asked a woman in the hallway if she'd seen a young lady costumed as an elf go by." He winks. "Those long hearing devices of yours are quite notorious."

   I blush and back my ears in embarrassment.

   "Astrea?"

   We both turn in the direction of Jarod's unexpected voice. He's leaning in the doorway, a bit nervous it seems at being there, and though I'm still cross with him, I decide to comfort him.

   "It's okay Jarod, you can come in."

   A smile of relief graces his features as he enters the threshold. He walks over and stops in front of me. 

   "I'm sorry," we both say at once, and then begin chuckling.

   "Look, I know I shouldn't hold back information from you, but I really have no other choice."

   I sigh. "Jarod, there is always a choice. You may not like it, but there is always another route to take. But I won't badger you for keeping back the info, though I still hold true to what I said last night."

   He nods sagely. "I understand." He sits down beside me on the bed. "By the way, how's your 'illness' going? Any change?"

   "So far it actually seems to be doing better. With the exception of trying to pounce on Arthur, I haven't even had any relapse as a result of not going out and prowling last night. I might be getting better."

   His face relaxes upon hearing this news. "That's great. So you'll be ready for heading in at two?"

   "Sure."

    Arthur holds up a hand to grab our attention. "Pardon me for asking, but why two? Couldn't we leave fro this corporation earlier?"

   "We could, but there'd be more muscle men to deal with. I've checked the sweeper shifts and between two and three is an open slot for the entrance we'll be using," Jarod answers logically.

   "Ah, I see. Well, then I suggest we have breakfast and get ready," Arthur says smiling as he moves over to the small kitchen area of the hotel room. He picks up a knife and opens the small fridge, looking for butter or jam. "Some toast is in order I think, and if one of us goes downstairs I'm sure we could ask about some lard and eggs. Yes I think that'll be-- Ow!"

   He drops the knife and grabs his hand, his face scrunched up in pain. A small trickle of blood escapes the cage of flesh his clutching hand has created, and a drop or two plummets towards the linoleum.

   I immediately tense, my eyes abnormally focused and trained upon the drop of blood as it hurtles to the ground. It crashes in slow motion to my enhanced eyesight, and a low growl of hunger and yearning rises in my throat.

   Jarod is about to stand and inspect Arthur's wound, when he notices how silent I am. He sees how my hands are gripping the bed, and how my lean and powerful legs are coiled tight. He observes the fierce and eager expression in my eyes, and he pieces it all together.

   "ARTHUR LOOK OUT!!!" 

    "Wha-?"

    Arthur's question is cut off as Jarod launches himself at me, knocking me off of my path as I pounce for Arthur. We tumble on the ground, and fire burns in my yellow eyes as I become enraged at the interference of my attack. I stand and roar furiously, angrily swiping at him with my claws, nicking his chin and drawing a thin line of crimson blood. The scent of it entices my senses and I'm almost drunk on smell it. Pleasure and blood lust are the only discernable feelings and I howl with happiness as I increase the intensity of my attacks. 

   Jarod raises his arms in swift and precise blocks, but as a result I am shredding though the cloth of his sleeves, the only thin barrier between his flesh and me.  

   Suddenly angry I jump upon him, pinning him down as I bay in triumph. I raise a hand to swipe at his eyes to blind him so that I'll be able to easily attack and slice open his throat, but he knees me in the groin. I let out a low moan of pain and I move off of him, snarling as I'm forced to back up.

   Thinking quickly Jarod reaches over and grabs the cheap three legged side table by the window and holds it out in front of him, his mouth set in a grim line.

   I sneer at his crude defense and jump and kick, effectively hitting the middle and breaking the contemptible table in half. But by then, I've already fallen into Jarod's trap. After I break it he throws both pieces at me and dives for the steak knife Arthur had let fall to the ground. Once I dodge the projectiles, Jarod moves into a hostile offensive stance and holds the knife in a ready position.

   I stop in my tracks and eye the weapon warily with frustration and annoyance.

   Jarod keeps the knife trained upon me and then moves to stand in front of an astonished Arthur. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, and tenaciously I meet his gaze. Then, without warning, my transformation disappears and I become oblivious to the blood scent that had been the cause of the battle. As realization of what's taken place come into focus, hands fly up to cover my mouth and I shake my head back and forth in a desperate denial, wildly muttering 'no' over and over again.

   I back away from them, mortified, my face drawn up in horror at the mindless thing I'd become a few minutes ago. Then, I look into Jarod's eyes, and what I find there sends me over the edge. 

   He is afraid of me.

   With a choked off sob I dash for the door, and no one calls after me. I sprint down the stairs and out of the hotel, into the newly fallen snow of last night, and collapse in a heap on the wet and icy ground, weeping as I clutch futilely at the sparkling powder. Tears of hopelessness and misery cloud my vision and I scream my agony, and then begin crying myself to the peaceful state of temporary oblivion.

7:38 AM, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

SL-25

Pretender Training Room

(None/Third Person View)

He- He's scared. Really scared. He knows someone's coming, but he doesn't know who, and it frightens him. On the screen two wide, frightened eyes met the gaze of the hidden camera and the hands used for sign language moved more feverishly. Why am I here? Why won't you leave me alone? Please, can I go home? I just want to go home. 

   Raines rubbed his chin thoughtfully, going over the recording of the completed session. The strange abnormality of it all had kept him up and wondering through the night. She wasn't a pretender, that much was assured, but her answers were... different. Yes, they were quite different.

   And he didn't know why. 

   Sighing with frustration he turned away from the computer screen, and Willie shut it off for him. Raines was walking towards the exit to leave and go back to his office to think on this more, when a sweeper ran in.

   "S-Sir!"

   "What?" he growled at him in annoyance and impatience, only succeeding in making the young man even more nervous.

   "Uh, it's uh, well…" he gulped. "Mr. Cox is here."

   In perfect subsequence to the statement, the door behind him was pushed open as a calm and cool Mr. Cox strode in. The sweeper felt that his job was done here and he ran out as fast as he could. Which, incidentally, was pretty fast.

   "Cox," Raines addressed the newcomer with loathing. "Why aren't you gone yet?"

   He laughed at that, as he walked closer, his hands in his suit pockets and his black hair neatly combed. "Gone? What ever made you think that I would actually **_leave_**?"

   _Wishful thinking. _ "Probably the fact that you have no actual reason to **_stay_**," Raines responded with a curtness that bordered on being downright rude.

   Cox's smile disappeared momentarily. "And here I thought that your many years on this planet had rid you of childish words when there is business to be done." 

   Raines' physically bristled at the pure political insult, but thought better of returning a retort. Instead, he focused upon the hidden message in the man's carefully constructed sentence. "Business eh? So that's why you've stayed. What business might we need to… take care of?" 

   Cox settled down comfortably in a chair and steepled his fingers. "Well, for one thing, I thought we should discuss when exactly we'll be leaving to go check on Project Location. I know you planned to go there soon."

   "We?" Raines nearly choked on the word. "You must have gotten your information crossed because you will not be accompanying my associates and I. You, I had assumed, would be going back to your little fortress in Africa." The 'Dr.' raised his eyebrows mischievously. "The Triumvirate must be missing you by now. "

   Mr. Cox frowned. "I will be coming Raines. If for no other reason than to act as a representative for the Triumvirate and see if this project of yours will work, or if it's just another waste of time and money."

   "That can't be your only reason for wanting to accompany me," Raines said snarling. 

   "For once, you're right." Cox smiled at the heated reaction he received and pressed forward. "My additional reason will be to look after your other… venture."

   "Lia?" Raines asked baffled. "Why would she be coming?"

   "I should think that it's obvious doctor." Cox scoffed, putting only the slightest amount of sarcasm on the word 'doctor'. "If Elf 17 and Jarod choose to rescue her while you and I are gone, it is almost assured that the scheme we concocted will fail."

   "And so you'd rather draw them to a project that they'd ruin if they found out about it?!" Raines hands itched to strangle the arrogant man. "Are you dense?"

   Cox's eyes flared. "No, I'm not. And actually with all of the botches you've made in the past I'd be surprised if they didn't already know."

   Raines' straightened and held his head high defiantly. "I am taking nothing but utmost caution when dealing with this project. All liabilities have been accounted for and supervised. There will be no mistakes."

   "And what about the data on the project?" Cox returned, standing up. "The Centre is obsessed with information, no matter the form, and I doubt that you would create something this momentous without having records on it. How safe can it be?"

   Raines eyes narrowed. "The document has been encrypted with a code of the highest strength. It is protected."

    "But that would mean you had to use a technician to encrypt it, and that adds on one more possible difficulty."

   Raines laughed harshly. "You don't need to worry about **_that_**. My tech worked under Ms. Parker, and has been effectively whipped to a cowering dog."

   Cox's eyebrows raised slightly in interest. "You have Mr. Broots as your private technician?"

   "You know of him?" Raines asked, surprised.

    "Unlike you, Dr. Raines, I do my homework." Cox grinned unkindly. "I like to keep an eye on all potential enemies and dangers."

   "Surely you aren't referring to Mr. Broots." Raines asked with slight disbelief. "That man couldn't grow a backbone, much less be an enemy or danger."

   "You'd be surprised what men will grow when pushed too far," Cox said quietly with unexpected steel.

   For a moment the two powerful men stood silently, each staring the other down with hatred.

   "Sir?" Willie cut in surprisingly. "I don't mean to interrupt but you have a scheduled meeting with Mr. Parker in four minutes."

   Frustrated with the lack of time, Raines clenched his fists. "Thank you for the reminder Willie." He gazed back at Cox. "Will there be anything else?"

   Cox stood stoically. "Only the time at which we'll be leaving."

   Raines ground his teeth, but knew that he couldn't keep out the Triumvirate agent. "Nine o' clock. Saturday," Raines said, supplying the information reluctantly. "They'll be sending over a jet at the local airport. It'll be flight forty-one at docking bay twelve."

   Cox inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Thank-you. I'll be there."

    And then he was gone; leaving Raines to head towards Mr. Parker's office wishing that Mr. Cox would die an early, bloody, and decidedly painful death.

************************************************************************************

Hey! I once again apologize for the time it took, and though I could rattle off a bunch of excuses as to why I didn't write diligently, I'm tired and so I'm just going to blame it one the seductions of reading and TV and be done with it.  

   Also, I have decided that to draw out those who might be reading this but not reviewing, I'll be responding (adding on comments) to reviews I receive in my disclaimer/rating line-up. And the last thing, has anyone checked out my one-piece humor fic, **"Lyle's Odyssey"**? If you haven't I suggest you do, and if you have I humbly ask for feedback. It's just that for some reason only receiving three reviews bugs me. 

   Anyway, hoped you enjoyed this installment, and look forward to any suggestions, complaints or compliments!   

            --------Talk to you later!!!


	11. Have Faith

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it, and never will. (Sniffles) Just leave me alone okay?!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** It's "present time" at the warehouse, Astrea tries to ditch Jarod, and Broots goes looking for our favorite empath.

**Feedback:** (Shadow Elf has gotten over her fear of the wookiee, and is now traveling through space towards a new planet called Tatooine with the popular-but-hated Han Solo) 

   [Points at dashboard] "What's that?"

_Han_: (For the fifteenth time) A dashboard.

   "And that?"

_Han_: Chewbacca.

   "And that?"

_Han_: (under his breath) My god, she's worse than a five-year-old.

   "Oooo, hey what that?" [CRASH!] "Oops."

**Review Returns:**                                       

     **_Molly Morrison: _**Yeah, I made a boo-boo with the coffee thing. I was looking for a synonym for coffee, and my computer came up with "hot drink" so I inserted that, and only after I'd posted it did I realize that it totally screwed up my earlier description of the beverage. I'm glad that you're reading this with such a scrupulous eye that you're able to catch things like that. Ten points to you!

**_     Ann:_** You're welcome! ;)

    **_Pez###?:_** Aw, you're just saying that. [Blushes and looks shyly away] 

    **_Lizz3: _**I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far, and believe me, I want Astrea to get better just as much as you do. Hope you like the next chapters as well!

                                                        P.S I was scared by "faked-nice" Cox too! ;)

****

**Quote:**

          **"It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity."**

                                                                                                                      --- Albert Einstein 

*************************************_ShadowElfBard_*************************************

8:32 AM, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Abandoned Warehouse Near The Docks

**(Ms. Parker)**

"I'm going to kill him!" I scream at the top of my lungs for about the third time in the past hour, kicking a doll and sending it flying across the room.

   "Not if I get to him first," I hear my twin grumble, his arms folded as he sits on the floor at the back of the room.

   Over on the blow-up couch, Sydney just sighs and shakes his head sadly.

   I've been doing nothing since we got here besides paced, screamed, and raged. It's still such a shock that Jarod actually had the balls to do this to us. To me. I'm surprised that he actually went through with it, I really am. Because to lock us in this Dr. Seuss hell, this bright and cheery room of torture, he has sealed his fate. Just for this, I am going to hunt his ass down, catch him, beat him into a bloody pulp, and drag him to the sublevels and let Raines play with him. I am seriously that pissed off right now.

   And I have good reason to be too! I remember I asked him about food, you know, what we'd eat. He said he left it in the toy box. Hah! What a laugh. We opened it last night, and we found his "food". Eight pounds of Pez and Twinkies. Pez and Twinkies for Christ's sake! That's lethal poison to someone like me! I can't even **_look_** at the stuff, much less eat it!

   So now I'm bored, (because I sure as hell won't watch the "Care Bears" DVD's) I'm hungry, and the stupid "It's A Small World" song seeping out of the hidden speaker is driving me insane.

   And I'm still locked in with Lyle.

   Damn it.

   "How many more hours Sydney?" Lyle moans.

    The psychiatrist checks his watch. "I'm afraid we still have four and a half more hours of waiting before we receive the next clue."

   "Noooo," he groans pathetically, futilely clutching his rumpled brown hair. 

The toy that Wonder boy had referred to, the one that would turn on every nine hours and that would give us a clue on how to get out is, unsurprisingly, a talking Curious George stuffed animal. Jarod has messed with its voice box and inner mechanisms, and so now, in precise nine-hour intervals, it flashes to life, and stands and chants the clue in a badly rhymed poem. It had last turned on at the godly hour of four am, and will, if my math is correct, be coming alive to haunt us at eleven. 

   Oh goody, goody, gumdrops.

   I can still hear that terribly cheery and cartoon-like voice in my head.

 _"Cree craw, _

_   Toad's foot_

_   Geese walk _

_   Barefoot,_

_   To place_

_   Of glutton _

_   Dig quickly,_

_   Push button"_

The place of the glutton. Oh how wonderfully clever Jarod. Well, we went to the toy box, (AKA 'place of glutton') and after digging through all of the candy we found that the toy box had no bottom. The bottomless box is super glued over a spot on the floor where, incidentally, a bright shiny red button is placed. We pushed it, and there was some whirring noise that momentarily drowned out the song from hell, but that was it. The doors didn't open. Which means, of course, that we'll have to wait here longer.

   I'm gong to kill him.

   "Ms. Parker?" Sydney calls over to me, causing me to whirl around. "I meant to ask you about what Jarod said to you earlier."

   "Jarod said a lot of things Freud," I hiss. "What are you asking about specifically?"

   He looks at me like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm asking about the reference to the gift Ms. Parker. The one he said would be under the tree."

   I roll my eyes upward. "What are you talki-" My eyes go wide as it comes back to me in a flash.

**_His eyes then twinkle in an almost alluring tenderness, as he looks straight at me, all mockery gone from his face. "The present's under the tree Ms. Parker."_**

****

   "I'd forgotten," I whisper, mostly to myself.

   And I had. I'd forgotten the strange comment reserved for me, and I'd forgotten the look he'd given me when he'd said it. But, what am I going to do about it now that I've remembered?

   "Presents?" My brother questions from the side of the room. "The lab rat bought gifts?"

   I glance over at the Christmas tree, and see three neatly wrapped gifts. "Yep. He's a regular Saint Nick."

   "Well are we going to open them?" Lyle stands up, extremely interested now.

   I look over at Sydney but he shakes his head. "It's your call Parker."

   "Of course it is," I mutter irritably. "It always is, isn't it?" Sighing, I throw my hands up in the air. "All right kiddies, go on. Santa's come a day early."

   We approach the tree and the gifts underneath hesitantly, not totally sure what to expect. Syd checks the nametags on each one and, sure enough, there's one for each of us. How perfectly predictable. 

   Once every gift has gone to its respective owner I turn to my brother. "Why don't you open yours over there Lyle?" I suggest with a sneer, pointing to the other side of the room. "Jarod might have placed a bomb in it and I just got my hair done."

    "Har, har, har. You're a riot," my twin says with overdone sarcasm, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

   Freud has ignored out little exchange and is already halfway done to unwrapping his gift. Interested, Lyle and I watch.

    Suddenly Sydney's face breaks out in a grin. "Hah, hah! A Beethoven collection!" he holds up the CD's thoughtfully. "I've been searching for one, but they've all been too expensive."

    I suppress a groan, realizing that Jarod has probably used Centre finances for every gift he's purchased. "That's great Syd. Let's let Mr. Thumbs go next."

   Lyle's lip curls at my nickname, but he opens his present without complaint.

   When it's fully unwrapped and held up for all to see, I burst out laughing. Syd tries to stifle his amusement, but it's not done very well and I can see the smile that threatening to burst free. 

   Because my brother was given a thumb. A rubber, fasten on, life-size toy thumb…with its fingernail painted red.

   I turn away from the sight, trying to calm down as Lyle shakes with rage, and then look at the small parcel in my hand. I can't help it, I'm intrigued, and I pull at the silver ribbon. Then, carefully, I strip off the beautiful white and blue Christmas paper, and find myself faced with a plain, ordinary, and undecorated brown box. For some reason my heart is pounding now, perhaps from excitement, and I pull up the lid of the small package and dig through the bubble wrap.

   With a shaking, trembling hand I hold up the small ceramic figure inside.

   And my heart melts.

   It's Faith. Right down to her kind and innocent smile. Her hair, her eyes, her…. Everything! It's her, fully and completely. And…and she's an angel. She has small, white wings, and a golden halo atop her head. She smiling, she could even be laughing, and I feel the need to do the same. I hold up the bottom of the figure, and notice that something's inscribed on the underside. I wipe frantically at tears that could form at any moment as I read it.

                                      _Have faith Ms. Parker. Have faith._

_                                                                     ~~~Jarod_

   Maybe… maybe I won't kill him just yet.

9:26 AM, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Holiday Inn

Room 109

**(Jarod)**

I found her asleep in the snow. The poor thing was shaking as she slumbered, and bits of ice on her cheeks showed that she'd cried herself to sleep. Her lips were blue, her face was a sickly pale white, and she seemed to be shivering herself into hypothermia. I carried her back in to the hotel with a fatherly reverence, and scattered crowds raised hands to their mouths as they saw how cold she was. When she'd run out she'd been wearing nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt, and the effects of the choice in attire were evident. After all, it was eight below outside.

   And so I'd carried her into the room, even despite the annoying voice in my head that warned against this, saying that she was still dangerous, and I let her sleep on the bed. She was still in wet clothes however, but I wasn't exactly sure how to deal with that and reasoned that she wouldn't be asleep for much longer so she could take care of it then.

   What I hadn't counted on was that she might try to leave.

   "Are you sure she was asleep when you checked on her Arthur?"

   "Yes I'm quite sure, sleeping like an infant she was." He rubs his chin. "Then again, I really didn't check that closely…"

   I moan and grab at my hair, frustrated that I hadn't foreseen this. Now what do I do? Where would she go? Heck, why did she leave?

   "All right, we need to check outside the building. Arthur, you search the east side and south side, and I'll check the north and west side."

   He nods. "All right." Then he pauses, furrowing his brow. "Um, which ways are those again?"

   I point out the directions and he smiles and sprints out of the room.

   I follow after, jogging out into the hall, and I then turn left towards the exit. I run past various people and maids and apologize for quite a few run-ins, but am then past the main office and out into the frosty air. I scan my surroundings, trying to think of where I'd go if I was trying to leave out this way, and then realize she'd take for the element she knows best: the forest. There's a relatively large patch of woods past the parking lot and field, and as I begin moving in that direction I notice with delight that there are fresh footprints in the snow that are a good match for one of her build.

   After two or three minutes of running, I'm in the middle of the forest, and I've reached a sudden and abrupt end to the footprints. I stand still for a moment, breathing in and out, and feeling ten times as tired as I normally would as a result of the rigid air. That's when it falls into place. I give a small smile and look up into the branches of a tree, spotting Astrea sitting on one of the thicker branches in a feral crouch.

   "Hello Astrea," I say to her, immensely relieved that I was able to find her.

   She stares at me with her large and enchanting eyes, her face betraying no more emotion then a cat would. 

   "Why did you come to look for me Jarod?"

   I wrinkle my forehead in confusement. "Because I was worried about you."

   "What reason would you have to be worried about me?" she says incredulously. 

   "You're my friend." I respond, wondering why the answer wasn't as obvious to her as it is to me. 

    She looks at me in disbelief. "Your friend? Jarod, I tried to **_kill_** you."

   I smile and shake my head. "No you didn't. You were just caught up in the blood scent. You were put into a frenzy yes, but you wouldn't have killed me."

   Suddenly her eyes seem to burst aflame and she jumps down what seems an immensely long way and ends up standing in front of me, on the verge of tears. 

    "And how would you know?! You didn't go through it Jarod, you don't know what it's like."  

   I laugh. "I don't need to go through it Astrea, I can pre-"

   "No." the austerity of the word cuts off my laughter. "No Jarod, you can't. Not everything can be pretended." She exhales harshly. "You of all people should know that."

   I'm baffled by her words and, surprisingly, slightly angry. "So what were you planning on doing huh? Running away?"

   She narrows her eyes. "I was going on my own. This problem of mine is mine alone and I shouldn't have tried to drag you into it."

   "Well it's too late for that isn't it?" I sneer, trying psychological tactics and hoping she won't see through them. "This 'problem' of yours is now both of ours. You brought me into this, and I'm staying. You can't boot me out."

   She gapes at me.

   "Besides," I continue, "you want me a part of this. Otherwise I wouldn't be here right now."

   "What?" she hisses angrily. 

   I fold my arms. "I wouldn't have found you here if you didn't want finding. You're too good of a pretender, especially with those added on feral skills. Either subliminally or conscientiously you wanted me to find you."

   She clenched her fists at her sides. "I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't be that selfish."

   "It's not selfish to want help with a problem!" 

   "It is when the problem can get the helper killed!"

   We stare each other down. 

   A breeze picks up and swirls the snow. 

   And she sighs. 

   "Jarod, I don't want you to come with me because every time you do, you get into trouble. You came close to losing your very soul last time."

   "But I didn't," I point out softly. "Because of you."

   She raises a hand to her forehead and holds it, like she wants to tear out the words from it. Then she looks straight into my eyes, her heart almost bleeding before me. 

   "But the danger is different this time Jarod." She speaks in a choked voice, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "The danger isn't Lyle, or Raines, or losing you memory, this time it's **_me_**." 

   She lowers her head, clenching her eyes shut. "If I let my transformation take over right now, if I let that savage creature out of me, I'd attack you. And if you keep acting this way, completely ignoring everything I've said, I'd kill you."

  I bite my tongue to keep from saying something in defense. She's partially right, but I can't let her do this by herself. I have to switch tactics. 

   "You can't go this alone. You just can't. I know better than anyone right now how much you need the information in the Centre, and I know better than anyone how to go about getting it. You could be exposed and captured if you go by yourself, and if that happens then I'm in trouble too."

   She stares up at me and I try to press on gently, knowing that I'm slowly progressing in this argument and trying to keep what ground I've gained.

   I smile softly. "Besides, you know how stubborn I am. You couldn't just tell me not to follow you and expect me to do it. You can ask Ms. Parker about my mulish behavior." I wink at her. "She'd give you an earful."

   I am graced with a grin that she tried to suppress, and realize that I've almost won. It's time for the coup de grace.

   "Please Astrea, I'm going to go no matter what you say, but I'd like for your condolences. You called me, asking for my help, and I see that choice as the wisest thing you could have done at the time, and if you still hold true to that request, then I think that you'll benefit greatly."

   She lowers her gaze, as if considering what I'm saying, and I step close and carefully embrace her. She returns my gesture, and I put my head on her shoulder, to whisper softly into her ear, "and besides, you left your present for Broots here. How do you think he'd feel about that?"

   She laughs at this, and she sobs, and she surrenders.

   And I just sigh silently in relief, and hold her closer as the wind picks up.

11:03 AM, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Somewhere In The Sublevels

The Air Ducts

**(Broots)**

"Angelo?" I call out in a whisper for about the fifteenth time. "Angelo are you there?" 

   Receiving nothing, which has been the pattern for the past hour, I groan softly and shine the flashlight into the direction I'll be heading next. 

   I still can't fully believe that I'm doing this. Raines will slit my throat and throw me to his dogs if he finds out what I'm doing, but I'm not sure which is scarier: facing Raines, or facing Willie. The way that sweeper was acting freaked me out. It was worse than when Bridgett tried to coerce me into going against Ms. Parker. The way she tried to seduce me still gives me the shivers.

   I wonder if Willie actually **_meant _**to leave the door open when he left Raines' office. I mean, he did say he wanted me to give Astrea the info, but did he guess that I might need to leave to get it? Well, if he didn't, then I'll just consider it a lucky break and leave it at that.

   God where **_is_** that empath?

   "Angelo!" I nearly shout, growing frustrated. "Where are you?!"

   I give up. I lie down as best I can in the metallic tunnel and just close my weary eyes. I can't take this anymore. If Angelo doesn't want me to find him then fine. Willie will just have to deal with the fact that I can't inform Astrea of her sister, and I'll just have to pray that he doesn't put a bullet in my skull.

   Suddenly a distant scampering catches my attention. I move as much as space allows me into a crawling position, and begin moving off in the direction of the sounds.

   "Angelo? Is, is that you?" 

    I pause and squint my eyes in the darkness, scanning the small and enclosed area, and see a flash of a shoe before it slips around the corner up ahead. A grin breaks out on my face and I begin crawling more rapidly through the channel.

   I can tell I'm getting closer to him, but at the same time I wonder if I'll be able to catch up with him. He knows these passageways better than some fathers know their children, and if he truly doesn't want to be found then I'm sure not going to be able to change that. 

   Realizing this and becoming desperate, I kick up the speed of my scuttle. Sweat pours out and dampens my face and clothing, and my thoughts are bouncing around as wildly as five-year-old's with pixie sticks. I reach another corner and as I turn I open my mouth to call out for the empath once more, when Angelo's face pops up in front of mine and I come to an abrupt halt.

   His intense and slightly insane blue eyes bore into mine and I roughly swallow back saliva, shocked at his sudden appearance.

   "Um…Hi," I manage weakly, trying to regain the ability to think clearly. I scratch the back of my head nervously. "I've been, uh, well I've been looking for you."

   He blinks once. "Angelo knows." 

   "Oh." I fall silent, not really sure what to say next.

   Luckily, Angelo fixes that little problem. 

   "Knew that you'd come asking about ex-Elf." He bobs his head like a bird. "Knew that you'd come."

   "Well… great!" I say, finally relaxing slightly, though surprised that Angelo knows about Elf 17's name change. "Then you'll be able to-"

   He shakes his head and the action cuts me off. "No," he says sadly, "cannot contact."

   My mouth opens slightly and my eyebrows go up faintly in surprise. "But… why? I know you can contact her; you've done it before. Why won't you now?"   

   He gives me a look of regret and sorrow. "Must run its course. Angelo's interference not allowed."

   "But Angelo!" I cry desperately," I need this info!"

   He simply shakes his head once more to affirm his previous response, and then scurries off. However, I make no move to follow and simply watch as his form slowly disappears into the darkness of the channel, trying to push aside the chill that's crawled up my spine as a result of Angelo's ominous and unexpected words.

*****

"Darn empath. Darn frustrating empath," I grumble softly to myself as I continue my slow crawl back towards the sublevels.

   Is he incapable of providing a straight answer? His speech is more confusing than a politician's, and reveals just as much information. Couldn't have just said 'no' could he? It had to be this prophecy like wording that makes no sense at all but that leaves the marrow in my bones frozen. The way he was talking almost made it seem as though there were higher forces involved, what with the whole: 'running it's course' and 'interference not allowed' thing.

   I curse under my breath and shake my head, as if to dispel the previous thought. I have to stop thinking like that. Too many years at the Centre have made me paranoid. I have every reason to be of course, but I'm taking it to the point of obsession and I worry for my sanity.

   I reach what I think is the vent I used to enter, and I stop and begin pushing against the opening, barely suppressing my grunts as I heave my weight against the grating.

   The door swings open slowly and the squeaking of the hinges proclaims that I am now able to leave the claustrophobic tunnels. I squirm out; trying to push my body through a hole not made for humans, and finally make it. I close the door and stretch my muscles. Then, after dusting off some residue from my unpleasant trip, I start walking down the hallway towards Raines' office. I wonder if I left door unlocked. I sure hope so.

   I think upon that for a moment or two as I continue my steady pace, trying to keep from focusing on my failure to communicate with Angelo, when I hear noises coming close. I ignore them at first, only hearing a far-off conversation, but then I freeze.  Because what I hear next, scares me more then Angelo's messages ever could.

    Because what I hear, is the familiar and unmistakable sound of squeaking wheels.

    The wheels of **_Raines'_** oxygen tank.

    I stand there, petrified, and my thought process comes to an abrupt halt. For a few terrifying seconds, with my mind held by fear, I'm even unable to breathe. And when time speeds up again, and I regain what little control I have, it's too late. Raines comes around the corner, walking side-by-side with one of the five most frightening people I know.

   Mr. Cox.

   What the hell is he doing here?

   The two come fully into view and Raines cuts off in conversation, and just stands there. He closes his mouth and it forms a tight-lipped white line. His eyes narrow. Cox just raises a brow with mild curiosity.

   I give the weakest and most pathetic smile of my life, and kick my wits into full gear. I have to think like Jarod… or try to anyways. Okay, give a believable reason as to why you're here. Give a believable reason as to why you're here. Give a believable-

   "What, exactly is your reason for being **_here_**, Mr. Broots, and not working **_in my office_**." Raines demands in a surprisingly low but deadly voice.

    I think I have something and I mentally gulp as I prepare myself for what must be the single best acting performance of my pitiable life.

   "W-Working?" I question with as much false bravado I can muster. "I was go-going home sir."

   If at all possible, Raines looks even more enraged, but for a moment I could have sworn I saw the beginnings of a smile on Cox's faces.

   "What made you think you could go home?" Raines asks in an almost fiery rasp.

   "You uh, you said so sir."

    "WHAT?!" 

   I clear my throat silently and prepare for the worst. "Re-Remember sir? You said that I could spend Friday and S-Sunday with my daughter."

   The veins are almost popping out of his neck now and he speaks in a lucid and concise voice that seems to be almost lethal in its extremity. "That, was Sunday and **_Saturday_**, Mr. Broots."

   Beside him Mr. Cox hides a grin of amusement.

   "It was? Are you sure?" I feel as though I'm drenched in sweat, and my knees are knocking together, but luckily it isn't visible to the man in front of me.

   In response to my question Raines just glares.

   "Oh," I say as sheepishly as I can. "I- I guess I'll be going then now."

   And then, risking life and limb, I walk forward, and past Raines and Mr. Cox, my face drained of color and my heart pounding out the "Mmm Bop" song in my chest.

   After finally reaching the office, and closing the door behind me, the enormity of what I just did sinks in, and I pass out.

************************************************************************************

   H-Hope you enjoyed it, and… [Holds up a large silver shield and proceeds to hind behind it] 

   *_From behind the shield in an extremely fast voice_*** **give me feedback, read my other works and please for the love of all that is insane don't kill me for being late and short!!!!!!!!

   ---Talk to you later!__


	12. A Complication

**Disclaimer:** Do I own it? In a parallel universe perhaps, but not in good old Mr. Reality. (Curse him and his boundaries!)

**Rating:** Parental Guidance needed for those under 13. (Not really, but that's what PG-13 stands for and since I can't use PG-11 or something like that then I have to- oops. I'm doing it again aren't I?)

**Summary:** It's "Mission Impossible" for our would-be heroes, as the Centre gets some uninvited guests…

**Feedback:** I yearn for your insight and wisdom!

**Feedback Responses:**

**Pez7701:  **Thank you once again, my insightful reviewer! I'm glad you enjoyed it!  **                                               Ann:  **Yeah, if you haven't already noticed, I love Broots. =-)I'm delighted that you found the part funny.

**Ievandie:** Thanks for checking on my story, and for reviewing the chapter. Oh, and don't worry, I can write from behind a shield. I just find it safer. ;)****

**Quote:**

**            "To get profit without risk, experience without danger, and reward without work is as impossible as it is to live without being born."**

-----_ A. P. Gouthey_

************************************_ShadowElfBard_**************************************

1:49 AM, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Local Starbucks

(Surprisingly, This Time I'm Going To Try **Arthur**)

I sip disinterestedly at the café mocha I ordered, (which is quite good but no substitute for tea), as I watch Astrea and Jarod in a heated debate about the methods they're going to use to get into this corporation. They aren't yelling, thank goodness, but are instead using passionate wording and comebacks in a discussion that is leaving me far behind. They're talking so swiftly that it's hard to get a word out, (though they seem to understand each other just fine), and the terms they're using are sometimes too advanced even for **_me_**, an ex-bookkeeper. 

   I give a wistful sigh, giving up on my attempts to stay in tune with them, and reflect upon what had occurred when Jarod had found Astrea. 

   I'm not at all sure what happened between the two, though it surely had to be something monumental, but when they'd found me back at the hotel room they'd both looked worn-out emotionally. I tried to talk to Jarod about it when Astrea was showering, but he'd been quite unresponsive. All I'd managed to discover was that he'd convinced her to come back. In fact, I still don't know why she'd even left. I suppose it might have been out of guilt for trying to attack me, though I have already let her apologize for such things before and don't know why she'd think this time any different. Perhaps it's a female thing. I never was good at understanding ladies and their ways of thinking.

   "Arthur? Arthur!"

   "Wha- what?" I mumble, bringing my thoughts to the present time and refocusing my eyes. Astrea's staring at me with a single eyebrow rose. 

   I clear my throat. "I'm sorry, did you ask me something?"

   "Yes. I asked you where you'd like to stay while Jarod and I infiltrate. Do you want to be at a bookstore, back at the hotel, or somewhere else completely?"

   I frown. "Why do I have to be somewhere else? I thought that I'd be accompanying you."

   Jarod and Astrea exchange looks. 

   Astrea sighs. "Arthur, you can't come in with us. I told you that when I agreed to let you come."

   I lean back in my seat, my arms folded. "And do you really think you can keep me away from it?"

   Her eyes narrow, and her face is a mask of stone resolution. "Yes, if I must."

   For a moment I feel a twinge of fear, but with desperation I manage to subdue it. I look over at Jarod, who returns my gaze with something akin to pity. I scrunch up my face in anger, and then, oddly, I question my emotions.

   Why do I feel so angry about this? After all she had warned me that I'd not be joining them, and her reasons are sound. Why do I feel the need to go against that decision? It's not like I'd be of any help after all, if what I've been told is true I'd be a hindrance rather than an assistance. And yet…

   "Arthur?" Astrea once again says my name, her expressive eyes searching my face.

   I deflate, and unfold my arms. "I'll stay at the hotel."

   My friend gives a small smile of relief in response to my soft surrender, and then stands to throw her cup away so that we can leave.

   As we head out though, I still think upon why it felt so hard to back down. Why it hurts so much to let them go in and risk their lives while I stay at the hotel, warm and safe. 

   Perhaps it's because I worry for them, and don't want them to go it alone. Perhaps I want to prove I can be something besides a timid bookkeeper. Perhaps I want to experience a real adventure, and not just read about one.

   As we approach the car in the parking lot, I tilt my head at another possibility.

   Perhaps I just have a death wish.

2:02 pm, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Indeterminable Location

(**Jarod**) 

I let out a slow breath, sitting in the drivers seat of Arthur's car, Astrea seated next to me. We're parked no more than twenty yards away from the gates that surround the Centre, protected from security cameras because of the blind spot we've chosen. 

   "Ready?" I ask her softly, mentally going through the plan we've concocted.

   She nods sullenly and the grip she has on the small black duffel bag's handle tightens. 

   "Let's get to it then."

   We both open the doors of the car, and step out into the snow. It's unfortunate that there was a snowfall, as our tracks will be a liability, but there's nothing we can really do about that. We've gotten those who would be a main problem out of the way, come up with a safe and secure plan, and we're going to use the talents that make us so valuable to see us through this successfully. We've done everything we could, and it's time to see if it was enough.

   Slowly and methodically, we make our way to the fence. Once there, Astrea nimbly climbs over, holding the bag's strap between her teeth as she does so. I, however, have a tougher time with the iron bars but manage to get over without **_too_** much trouble. But I do manage to end up flat on my bottom in the snow, much to Astrea's amusement. 

   After she scans the area with all of her enhanced senses for signs of set off traps or patrolling sweepers, Astrea takes off at a run towards the side of the building I'd told her to go to earlier. As she waits leaning up against the wall, me standing beside her, I search with my hands in the cold white powder at my feet for the buried metal opening I'd discovered in my earlier years at the Centre. Finally my now numbed hand swipes against the smooth steel trapdoor, and with a grin I pull up the handle. 

    Astrea drops in first, and I follow after, closing the door after me. Once I've come down the ladder into the underground entrance, I take a look around and realize with slight joy that the room hasn't changed since my previous visit. It's the same musty storage room full of files and boxes that hold the crumbling remains of another time. Besides some added dust and new cobwebs, it's exactly as I remember it. It's a shame that the trapdoor doesn't open from the inside though, or this place would help Astrea and I immensely on our escape. Oh well. As we did last time, we'll just have to come up with another route out. 

   Astrea's already by the door out of here, and she looks back at me expectantly, waiting for the "go ahead" to leave and carry out her portion of this mission. I nod, and she gives me a brief smile that's meant to assure me of her safety, and to wish me luck. Then she's out the door and into the sublevels.

   It only takes me a few moments before I've located the air vent opening in this tiny closet like room, and yanked open the rusted grating. I can barely fit in with enough room to crawl, but it's large enough for my purposes. I begin my slow and steady trip through the vents, once again marveling at how Angelo is able to navigate so smoothly through these metallic tunnels. 

    Perhaps five or ten minutes later, (I didn't bring a watch), I feel that I've reached my destination. After a few seconds of searching, I find an exit. I listen tentatively for the sounds of others, and peer through the opening, but am greeted by silence and safe passage. Relieved, I cautiously exit the vents, careful to close the grating behind me as softly as possible. 

   I'm in the middle of a hallway, that, for the moment at least, is deserted, and I begin scanning the area for the door I need. I spot it quickly enough, and my hand goes to the holster on my belt. For my part of this plan, I need to carry a gun. Astrea had disapproved of course, but trusted me enough to not protest against it. It's only meant for show anyway, and is filled with blanks, so it shouldn't be a problem.

   Doing a last check for watching eyes or lenses, I sprint across the hall and shove open a door, quickly entering and shutting and locking it behind me. I then turn and smile at the faces of the technicians within the room. All of them, about eleven different people, all at their own little computer monitor, gape with open mouths at my sudden, and certainly unexpected arrival. They glance at each other nervously, their eyes wide and darting. They obviously recognize me but are unsure what to do. For a few moments, they seem to be debating whether to try and attack me, contact security, or just be quiet and comply with whatever demands I make peacefully. Five seconds go by, and I decide to help them along a bit.

   I smile widely and pull out my gun, the nozzle pointed towards the ceiling. There are a group of collective gasps, and every one of them slides backwards to the wall in their wheeled computer chairs, their arms raised in surrender. 

   They're technicians all right.

   "Hello everyone," I start kindly, in an almost joyful tone. "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm afraid that you'll all have to just work with me for a while. I don't want to hurt any of you, and I'm pretty sure that none of you want to **_be_** hurt. So how about we handle this like adults and help each other out?"

   Their heads immediately begin nodding up and down, and I'm reminded of bobble head dolls. I begin to wonder if I should try to start a collection of bobble heads, because they're so fun to watch and play with, and then remember where I am and what I'm doing, and abandon the thought all together. 

  "Now," I continue, gazing over the quivering forms, "does anyone here know how to play the quiet game?"

2:11pm, Thursday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Raines' Private Office

(**Broots**)

_"Oh Broots," Ms. Parker coos, running her hands over my chest. "You've been working out haven't you?"_

_   I give her a cocky little grin and draw her close. She gasps at my touch on her back, that's been partially exposed by her loose, silky nightgown, and then shivers with delight. We stare into each other's eyes longingly, almost hungrily, and then move closer for the kiss… _

BEEP!

   "Wha-?" I mumble, my eyes fluttering open as I slowly wake up. I blink once ore twice, recognize the office I'm in, and then groan unhappily as I realize that the wonderful dream was **_only_** a dream. I mumble heatedly under my breath before a yawn cuts in, and then scoot closer in my computer chair to check through the document I'd ordered the computer to encode.

   I glance over it disinterestedly, my thoughts still trailing back to that wonderful dream and secretly hoping that it's a premonition of sorts, when the door is thrown open with such a force that it stirs up the papers on my desk. I spin around in alarm, knowing that Raines doesn't have that type of strength and worried that it's Willie coming to demand I tell him if the message was sent off. But as the door is slammed shut again and I face the person who has entered, my eyes and mouth widen with complete and utter incredulity.

   "As-Astrea?"

   "Broots?"

   We gaze at each other stupidly, shock enveloping us both.

   I take the time to look her over, and recognize a few things off the bat. She's grown a little, not much really, but a little, and she somehow looks more… more feral than usual. Her green eyes seem to carry a slight tint of yellow that's barely noticeable, as if she was in the first stages of transforming. That's strange...

   Astrea stares at me oddly. "What are you doing here Broots?"

   I open my mouth to answer, but find that no sound comes out. I settle for looking at the ground, and she seems to understand. Disbelief is clearly etched upon her flawless features.

   "No," she whispers. "No, no, no…"

   I nod deftly. "It happened Monday." I give a weak laugh that seems to catch in my throat. "I'm still having trouble believing that it's true, but, as you can plainly see, it is."

   "Oh, Broots." Sympathy beyond measure shines in her eyes. She knows what it's like being under Raines. Probably a lot better than I do.

   "So, uh…" I clear my throat. "What are you… what are you doing here exactly?"

   She still looks at me with sadness but she attempts to cover it while she answers. 

   "I'm here with Jarod. We're looking for some… for some information."

   I furrow my brow. "In Raines' office? What are you looking for?"

   "A data log entry. I need to find out more on the procedure that made me a feral pretender."

   "Oh."

   We stare in an awkward silence.

    "So, um…" I clear my throat. "Anything I can help with?"  
    She gives a small, almost painful smile. "Actually, could you move? I need to get at the computer."

   I quickly comply and stand against the wall. She thanks me, sits down, and begins to search furiously through file after file. I simply stand up against the wall, still a bit surprised at her abrupt appearance, and let my mind wander a it as she searches, wondering if I can go back to sleep after she leaves and finish my dream.

   I'm mulling over many thoughts, about the irony of the situation and how much longer I have to wait before I can go home and set up Christmas decorations with my daughter, when a thought hits me with the force and speed of a bullet, causing me to jump up from my slouched position. 

   Astrea turns her head around at my sudden movement, and quirks an eyebrow in question.

   "Something wrong Broots?"

   "Yes, er, I mean no, I, ye-" I growl in frustration. "No, there's nothing wrong but I needed to tell you-- there's a new project at the Centre that Raines and some others are involved in."

   I now have her full attention. She stares at me with a familiar intensity that I'd encountered more than once on our trip together, and slowly rises from the chair.

    "A new project?" she's skeptical, but willing to listen. Weirder things have happened after all.

   I reaffirm my earlier statement with a nod. "Yes, actually I uh, I encoded the document on the project for Raines."  

   She blinks and tilts her head. "Have you told anyone of it?"

   "Uh, no."

   "Can you give me a copy of the document?"

   "Nooo…"

   "But you do know what the project **_is_**, right?"

    "Ah, I'm afraid it's a 'no' to that too."

   She stares at me with incredulity. "You don't even know what it is you're telling me about? Broots, if that's the case it could very well be one of the Centre's legitimate projects. They don't **_just_** deal with kidnapping and child experimentation you know."

   "I know, but the weird thing was that Raines had me encrypt it with an extremely powerful algorithm. And he was very… very clear when driving home the point that I was not to read it, copy it, or even scan over it. But I did see the title! It's named Project Location."

   "Hmm…" 

   I can tell she still doesn't see this in the same light as I do, and I frantically search my mind to come up with another piece of information that will clear away her doubt, when it hits me.

   "Mr. Cox!" I yell with the energy of a drill instructor.

   She raises her eyebrows. "What?"

   "Mr. Cox! He, he was here, and he was talking with Raines, and…yeah." I break off, trying to think of adding on more to my announcement but coming up with nothing.

   She's finally interested. It seems she's heard of the whacko too. "Mr. Cox? But what would make the Triumvirate interested in it…" she breaks off and furrows her brow, brooding over the new piece of information. 

    Suddenly, she looks alarmed. "Oh sh- Broots!"

   "Huh?"

   "What time is it?"

   I glance down at my watch, unsure of what this has to do with the project. "It's uh…oh! It's 2:45. Why?"

   She runs over to the computer and I hear rapid typing and mouse clicking. "I'm supposed to be out of here with the info by four and I still have somewhere else to go, that's why." 

   She begins to feel her pants pockets and I hear her growl in frustration when she apparently doesn't find what she's looking for. She whirls on me.

   "Do you have an empty floppy or zip disk?"

   I nod deftly, a little put off by her rapid movements. "They're in the drawer on your left, third one down."

   She opens the said drawer and after some speedy rummaging her hand emerges with a zip disc. She inserts it in the computer, and begins to download files, which I'll have to presume are unread and meant for later study. She certainly didn't have enough time to read through any of the documents. I feel a sudden rush of shame as I realize that I might be the reason she ran out of time.

   She taps her nails in a furious rhythm while waiting for the download before abruptly cutting off, as though she's remembered something. 

   She hits herself on the forehead. "Duh! I almost forgot." She reaches down into a black pack she'd carried in with her and pulls out a card, a small package, and a festively decorated bag. Each thing has a name attached.

   She unceremoniously dumps them in my arms as my jaw drops open.

   "The card's for Willie, the package is for Angelo, and the bag is for you." she gives me a small and friendly kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas." 

   I look down at the items she's handed me in surprise. Then, with a sudden start, I realize I don't have anything for her. I begin to stammer out a thank you while trying to spit out the words that I don't have something for her, but she simply raises a hand to cut off my crooked babble.

   "It's okay, I know you didn't expect me. Besides," her eyes gleam with joy, "Your last gift will last me a lifetime."

   A slow warmth rises at her words, and I almost swell with pride. 

   She then checks the computer, sees that it's finished with its task, and ejects the disc, stuffing it in her pocket.

   She grabs her bag and heads to the door. "Bye Broots, until next time."

   I grin. "Good-bye Astrea, merry Christmas."

   She acknowledges the words with a widening smile, and slips out into the hall. 

   I set down the gifts on a nearby desk, resisting the urge to open mine, and settle in my computer chair. I let out a long breath, and give a rueful gaze to the ceiling as I take in the fact that I'll have to deliver Angelo and Willie's presents. Broots, aka: Santa Claus. 

   I give a chuckle that dies in my throat when I realize something with a sudden horror.

   I forgot to tell Astrea about her sister!

2:42pm, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Indeterminable Location

(**Astrea**)

_Damnitt Jarod, why didn't you tell me?_

   I hang my head as I walk down what I know is an empty corridor, traveling the route Jarod and I picked out last night. I can't believe he kept this from me. I can't believe he has such a total lack of faith in me.

I could have handled it, it's not like I'd abandon my original mission or anything. But finding out like this… it makes it just that much harder to cope with.

   Poor Broots.

   How did it happen? Was it because I escaped? Did I cause it? No.

   I shake my head to dispel the thoughts.

   Now is not the time to belittle myself, or to feel unneeded guilt. It's over. It doesn't matter how it happened, all that matters is that it did happen. And I can help Broots better if I'm not pointlessly beating myself up about something I didn't do.

   I throw my shoulders back with a mustered confidence and steely resolution. I will deal with Broots' predicament when the time comes, and I will do my best to get him placed back on the pursuit team. I will not take on responsibility for what happened to him, because it is not my fault. But for now I must focus on the task at hand, and complete what it is I set out to do.

   It's time to go get Jarod and inform him that I'm ready to leave.

   I glance around the hall I've entered, scooping to make sure that the sweepers who are supposed to be taking their break haven't come back early, and then silently make my way to the security screening room where Jarod had told me he'd be.

   I knock lightly once on the door, and then drum my fingers in a simple rhythm.

   The door cautiously opens, but in the blink of an eye is throw wide enough for me to scurry in, before it is shut closed once more.

   "Glad you could make it," Jarod says jokingly, though I can hear the relief in his words.

    "Wouldn't want to disappoint you," I return, trying to hide my resentment at the knowledge he kept from me.

   He gives a small smile in acknowledgement. 

   "So, how did it go?" I ask him, glancing at the cowering technicians briefly, but mostly ignoring them as I wander aimlessly around the small room.

   "Well enough. I uh… I watched you on one or two of the screens. It seems it went well for you to huh?" 

   He fidgets with his nervous hands, still fighting to keep the smile on his face. I narrow my eyes for a moment, knowing that the cause of his anxiety is the fact that he saw me talking with Broots, but I don't call him on it.

   "I saved a copy of nearly all of Raines' files. I should have something on my 'illness' once I sift through it."

   "Good," he nods. "So we can leave now."

   "As long as you're finished wiping the security DSA's clean of my appearance, then yes we're ready to go."

   At this he moves over to one of the computers, but I pay no attention to it, knowing that he's just double-checking his handiwork. 

   While he does this, I look at the various monitoring of different levels and areas, not looking for anything in particular but using the images to occupy myself. I notice at first that they're all in color; they must have updated the security systems. I watch executives in their offices, filing papers or holding meetings, people chatting in hallways, and sweepers standing post and patrolling. I can even see footage of the sublevels, and one or two of the Centre's holding cells. 

   I'm turning away from a picture of my old 'room', knowing that there's nothing to look at there anymore, when something catches my attention. I stare intently at the image, and then see it again; there's something moving in there.

   With a scrupulous eye and a curious mind I watch as the figure on the screen comes out from a shadowy area of the cell, and folds its arms. I see its shoulders shaking and I realize with a pang of sorrow and pity that it's crying softly. I lean in closer, becoming more intrigued by the moment. Who is this person? I doubt it's one of the old occupants of the sublevels, they were emotionless golems the last time I saw them and wouldn't be capable of showing the pain that is so clearly surrounding this small figure.

   The person moves nearer to the camera, and sits upon its cot, its hair dangling down and obscuring its face. It backs against the wall and hugs its knees to its chest, seeking solace where there is none to be found. It reaches up a small and almost fragile looking hand to wipe away a tear, and ends up brushing away some of the hair eclipsing its face, allowing me to get a good look at what I now realize is a girl who looks just a few years younger than me.

   The figure turns its head to look at the camera, and time seems to slow as I find myself staring into a pair of eyes.

   A pair of emerald green eyes.

   I gasp and stumble back, about to call Jarod over when a loud and sudden alarm goes off, attacking my sensitive hearing, and drawing Jarod's (and probably everyone's) attention.

   We both look at each other in confusion, and then notice that one of the techs has managed to sneak over to a wall panel. His mouth is set in a smile of grim satisfaction, and his hand is cupped over a large red button with the words 'in case of emergency' clearly printed over it.

   Jarod's mouth gapes open for a moment, surprised that one of the techs was bold enough to do that, but he shakes out of it quickly enough and grabs my arm.

   I'm aware that I'm being pulled out the door and into the hall, but though my feet are running fast enough to keep up with Jarod, and my hands are tightly gripping the bag I'd brought with me, I can't think. It's as simple as that. It is as though my sensory systems were all shut down. I'm deaf to the blaring siren that is calling the sweepers of the Centre, I'm blind to the shocked faces of secretaries and lower level workers as we pass them, and I can't register what's going on or where we're going. 

    I've gone completely numb from the shock of what I saw on that computer screen.

    Jarod and I reach one of the exits, and he hardly slows his pace at all as he opens the door with a tremendous force. We are now outside, running across the snow covered grass in the direction of our "get-away vehicle". There are shouts rising up from behind us, and I hear a shot or two go off. None of the bullets even come close though.

   For a moment my eyes focus and I see that the fence we need to climb over is just ahead. Jarod follows my gaze and mistakes my strange mood as worry that he might not be able to climb the fence fast enough. He gives me a reassuring smile that does nothing to reassure me of my true problem, and slightly picks up his pace.

    When we're only a few feet from the barrier, Jarod jumps at it and begins a frantic scramble up the bars. I stand still for a moment, still in a daze, before a bullet hits the snow only a few inches from my leg, and effectively gets me in gear. 

   After climbing up and over I sprint to the car. Jarod's already in and has gunned up the engine, and after I'm seated and have closed the door, he slams down on the pedal and drives off.

   The pretender next to me breathes slowly for a few moments, smiling. His face is red, and he's out of breath, but the high of the adrenaline in his body is causing him to ignore all that. He gazes over at me with a grin still on his face.

   "That was some run, wasn't it?"

   He then notices the strange expression of shock on my face. "Hey, are you doing okay? What's wrong?"

   I turn my head and look at him slowly, and tears streaks mark my cheeks as I whisper, "everything."

************************************************************************************

    (Sigh) I know it's late, yes, I know, but school is eating me alive. Slowly. From the inside out. I won't abandon the story (ShadowElfBard NEVER abandons a story), and I already have the plot all mapped out, but it's the finding-the-time-to-write thing that's bringing me down. Please review, and maybe your compliments or complaints will get me back in gear.

   P.S 

      Eat at school if you must, but whatever you do, DON'T eat the meatloaf!

------Talk to you soon! (If my high school from hell allows me to!)


	13. Merry Christmas

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it, and I'm only doing this for those of you with long-term memory loss, like the sweeper at the gates. (_If you don't get the reference, read **Lyle's Odyssey**. If you do, ten points to you!_)  Oh, and the song belongs to the Eagles and whatever music company they work for.

**Rating:** Ah screw it. I'm not messing with this right now. Let's put it this way-- if you've watched the show, and can understand the plot, then you can read this.

**Summary:** Ms. Parker and the others are coming back to the Centre, Raines and Cox find out about the break-in, and someone crosses the line with Broots… 

**Feedback:** I'm afraid that unless I get an overwhelming amount of feedback telling me not to, I'm going to have to discontinue the adventures of Shadow Elf, the Bard. It's just too hard to keep coming up with parts to it, without making them too long. Sorry.

   But that doesn't mean I don't want any responses!!!

**_!!! Author's Note !!!  _Sorry that this took a bit longer to post than the other chapters, but I was trying to write more to this one than I have with the others. I hope that the length makes up for lateness.**

**Quote:**

              **"Everyone has a limit, some just aren't pushed far enough." **----_ShadowElfBard_ (Me)

************************************_ShadowElfBard_**************************************

4:49 pm, Friday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Just Outside the Warehouse

(**Ms. Parker**)

"Hurry up Syd. I don't want to leave you behind but we've stayed here too long as it is," I shout back to Sydney, never slowing from my quick pace and long strides. 

   I hear him sigh softly behind me and know that he's probably shaking his head. I'm afraid I don't really care at the moment though. I'm in too much of a hurry to get the hell out of here. 

   Two minutes ago, after hours upon hours of seemingly endless mental torture in the demented lab rat's "House of Fuzzy Horrors", we were finally released. The third clue had been sung in a pathetic rhyme scheme that was only slightly different from the first and second, (the second actually led us to another button that had been hidden under a fake-fur rug) and had been sung in the same squeaky and cheery voice.

_"Cree craw, toad's foot_

_Geese walk barefoot_

_Truth can kill you _

_Or set you free_

_For the last button_

_Look inside me"_

And almost immediately after the musical number had ended, Lyle had pulled out a pocketknife, (I don't even want to know why he keeps one on him when he has a perfectly good gun) and gutted the toy. Inside, as promised, had been an electronic remote with a large green button in its center. After it had been pressed, the lights had gone out briefly, and then flickered back on. At first we'd been worried that it had been a trick, or that Jarod's set up had malfunctioned, but when I'd tried the door, it had opened without argument.

   No further coaxing had been needed to get all three of us out the exit.

   And so now we're all out, and moving towards the car (if it's still there that is) and I'm trying to keep from bursting into a full-out run. I'm seriously **_that _**eager to get the hell out of here. And who wouldn't be? Locked in that overly cheery place with only a psychiatrist and a cannibalistic psycho as company would drive **_anyone_** insane.

   We finally reach the car and I send up a quick prayer of thanks at the fact that it's still there. Trudging my way back to the Centre at night and in the snow does **_not_** seem like a fun idea. 

   As we all enter the car and buckle up, Lyle taking the wheel despite my protests, I briefly wonder what I should tell the Centre about my… nonattendance. Nobody needs to know that the lab rat tricked us again (especially if he did something to the Centre in my absence). But, then again, can I really keep it from the bastards? Those nearly omniscient bigwigs seem to find out about everything that happens. Oh, the hell with it. If they can find out, then they can go right ahead. But there's no way that I'll be telling them. 

   I look out the window, and for the first time I notice the frozen beauty of this area. The pier covered in snow, the cold gray sky against the color of the calm sea. The pearly white ground and the brown bare trees. It's beautiful really. 

   I'm reminded of the figurine Jarod gave me, and I look out of the corner of my eye at my bag, making sure that it's in the car with us. I have to admit it; I'm touched. Wonder boy did something right for a change. Maybe I'll thank him if he ever calls again. Maybe.

   Lyle gets ready to start up the car, and I push aside thoughts of Jarod and the gift he gave me. I can't think upon these things now. It's time to go back to the Centre and see what damage Jarod's done.

12:48 PM, Saturday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

Indeterminable Location

**(None-- Third Person View)**

_Imbeciles, all of them! _Raines thought darkly as he strode down the hall, Willie following behind him. He'd only just been informed this morning of Jarod and Elf 17's untimely appearance, and he was not a man who enjoyed getting bad news at the crack of dawn.

   Cursing technicians and their contemptible cowardice, he entered the tech room; though in actuality it more resembled a crime scene.

   Underlings were scurrying around with files and papers, techs were trying not to cower as they recalled what happened to the sweepers who took down notes, and three of the semi-higher-ups were conversing in low tones in the corner. 

    Raines took no notice of any however, but the three in the corner. He approached them, two men and a woman, and once they saw him he had their immediate attention. His reputation, after all, was something for the Centre history books.

   "Mr. Raines," the woman **--**a petite redhead**--** said in greeting, trying her hardest to appear her cool and collected self. 

   The two men, one with a solid build and black hair, and the other a thin and wiry blonde with his hair slicked back, simply nodded in acknowledgement, though it was easy to see their tension.

    "What happened?" Raines asked bluntly, blowing off the usual niceties that were expected of employees.

   Black hair shrugged, and nodded in the direction of a tech. "Ask one of them; we haven't been told anything so far." His eyes narrowed briefly. "The sweepers have been refusing to let us question the technicians."

    Raines eyes flared wide. "They've '**_refused_**'?"

   "Apparently they're following higher orders," Wiry added, glancing over at the sweepers briefly.

   "Have you been able to find out whose?"

   "We've been unable to get anything out of them except glares."

   "How long have they been here?" Raines inquired with a scowl, thinking, for the third time, that he should have been contacted.

   "As far as we know they came in yesterday evening," the woman informed him, her arms crossed in anger. 

   Raines fists shook at his side, his entire body heating up with suppressed rage. He turned away from the three, and without pretense or warning, walked straight up to one of the interrogating sweepers.

   "What's going on?" he demanded in a hiss.

   The sweeper turned slowly, not even flinching. He stared at the doctor through the black lenses of his sunglasses for a moment, and then said, "That's none of your concern."

   Willie stepped in before Raines could blow a gasket, and his tone was low and deadly. "You should have more respect when speaking to one higher placed than you. Mr. Raines is second only to the Chairman, and it would be unfortunate if I had to report you."

   The rival sweeper gave a small smirk. "Then I suppose I'm lucky that I don't answer to the Chairman." He tilted his head slightly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have orders to carry out." And then he simply turned his back on them.

    That was the last straw for Willie. His hand immediately went to his gun holster, but before he could pull out his weapon someone from behind gripped his arm in warning and whispered, "Don't."

    Both Raines and Willie turned, and were surprised to be staring at Mr. Cox.

    "You should teach your sweepers more restraint, Mr. Raines," said Cox with a grave and serious look. "If you're not more careful you'll offend the wrong people."

    "Whom are these sweepers working under?" Raines questioned, knowing instinctively that he had an answer. 

   Mr. Cox shook his head, and nodded towards the hallway. "Let's talk in your office. Is it empty?"

   "My tech was sent home forty minutes ago." He took in some raspy breaths. "We can talk there, but I expect answers."

   Cox inclined his head in acknowledgement, and they walked out of the tech room.

*******

" Well, we're here. Now, I think, would be a good time to tell me whose orders those sweepers were operating under," Raines said after shutting the door. Willie was guarding the entrance, and Cox was seated comfortably in the chair facing his desk. As Raines sat in his own seat, looking at the Triumvate agent expectantly.

   "First of all, those were not sweepers, Raines. They were cleaners."

   "Cleaners?! But that would mean--"

   Cox gave a grim smile. "Yes, the Tower sent them. Word travels fast, and those above are very interested in what would make two pretenders on the run break into the very place they escaped from." 

   Raines let out a frustrated groan and clutched his head, feeling a stress related headache coming on. This was a disaster. In fact, it was very doubtful that things could be any worse.

   The doctor sighed. "How much do they know?"

   "I'm not entirely sure at this point, (you never can be with the Tower involved) but I don't think they know anything as of yet."

   Yes! Then there was still hope! Raines smiled slightly at the thought. Maybe things could still go as planned. But, first, he needed to find out how much Elf 17 and Jarod knew.

   "So the Tower supposedly knows nothing… but how much do **_we_** know?"

   "We know that Jarod and Elf 17 came in, (though we're not sure how), and that Jarod hijacked the security room, and destroyed every DSA security disc that we could have used to find out why they were here." Cox grumbled the last part, obviously upset about it.

   But Raines was still confused. "So we don't know why they even came?" A sudden thought hit him. "Is Lia still in the sub levels?"

   Cox gave a nod. "Yes, she's there, and she hasn't been visited by anyone. This is all rather baffling I'm afraid."

    "Everything's baffling when Jarod's involved," Raines muttered darkly. Then he straightened. "So, as it stands, we know about as much as The Tower. How wonderful."

   "Still, we should consider it fortunate that they do not know more than us. On this matter at least." 

   The doctor gave a noncommittal grunt, an angry and disappointed look on his face, and then he gestured slowly towards the door. "Unless there's something else you have to tell me, Cox, I'd appreciate it if you left. I have preparations to make before we leave."

   Though he seemed irritated at Raines' rude dismissal, Cox obligingly stood, inclined his head in acknowledgement, and left the office.

   And personally, Raines couldn't have been happier to see him go.

6:49 pm, Saturday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Holiday Inn

Rm 109

(**Jarod**)

I glance over at Astrea from my position on the bed for what has to be the tenth time in the past hour. She's still in the same spot, gazing out the hotel window at the frost covered ground below, not really looking at anything and lost within her own thoughts.

   Arthur is over by the door, his arms folded against his chest as he paces slowly around the room, his face troubled. He too has been doing this for a long time, though periodically he'll take a seat before becoming agitated and rising to his feet again.

    I've simply been sitting. Astrea had told us what she'd seen last night, nearly sixteen hours ago, but the news was so shocking that we've been left in a sort of stupor the entire day. Personally I'm still having trouble believing it, though I really haven't voiced my opinions on the matter. It's a very hard pill of info to swallow.

   Astrea has a sister at the Centre. 

   I sigh and shake my head. Complications and surprises are horrible encounters...

   "Jarod, we need to talk."

   I look over and notice that Astrea's risen from her seat at the window, and has crossed her arms as she stares down at the ground.

   "About what?" I ask.

   "About the Centre, about my sister, and about the plans we're going to make to free her." She looks up at this last part, and her green eyes almost dare me to protest.

   I pause a moment, careful to form an answer that won't upset her. "I… I understand that these things do need to be talked about, but shouldn't we be focusing more on the files that you've copied from Raines' computer? As far as we know, that girl in the cell might not even be related to you."

   Whoops. Seems that I've overstepped my boundaries.

    She unfolds her arms, anger fueling her movements. "We've been over this before, Jarod. She **_is_** my sister. I could tell."

    "How? All you saw was an image from a security camera. That's not really a valid source of information."

   Her hands curl into fists and then uncurl again. "How many times do I have to tell you? I could **_sense_** it. And you and I both know that when a pretender senses something, it shouldn't be ignored."

    "I know," I relent with a sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I'm just… I'm just confused, okay? It's hard enough trying to come up with a cure for your little 'problem', but now that you have an alleged family member who's in the Centre…" I sigh again. "The rules-- hell, the whole **_game_** has changed. And I'm not sure that it's a game we can win."

    "Um, pardon me for interrupting, but does that little message box mean that the computer is done searching?" 

    We both look over at the laptop that Arthur is pointing towards, and Astrea glides over. She looks at the screen for a moment, clicks on something, and then turns back around. "The search I ran is done. Now, instead of looking through thirty-seven different files, we only have to go through four."

    I nod. "Are you going to go through them now then?"

    "Yes," she says, though a bit grudgingly. "It'd be better for me to solve this problem before we start tackling any new ones." She then looks at me sharply. "But don't think that this lets you off the hook; we're still going to discuss the plans for freeing my sister after I'm done."

   "Of course."  I say the words sincerely and believably, but hope that she doesn't see the smile of relief trying to break free.

7:46 pm, Saturday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre

(**None-- Third person view**)

"What I wouldn't give for Jarod's head on a pole," Lyle muttered to himself as he hung up his drenched suit coat on the rack in his office. He'd only **_just_** come back to the Centre no more than ten minutes ago. He, his sis, and the doc had all got into the car after they'd left Jarod's trap, and then discovered that the car wouldn't start. The engine had frozen over or some crap like that. And so they'd had to walk nearly four miles to find a car repair shop.

    Through the snow, without coats or scarves, in twenty-below weather. 

    And then, when they'd finally reached the repair shop, they found that it had been closed for the holidays. They'd had to walk another two miles to find one that was open, and the people there said that it would be an overnight job, and since none of the three wanted to explain why they were coming back to the Centre in a cab, they had to rent out rooms at a Holiday Inn. Then, when they'd come back to the shop the next day, they'd been told that it would still be three more hours, so they'd had to wait in the lobby watching back to back 'Passions' re-runs. And that's not even **_mentioning_** the repair cost.

    So, needless to say, Lyle was not in the best of moods. 

   He sat down in his chair behind the desk, trying to relish in the peace and quiet for a moment. It had been horrible trapped in that cheery cage, but it was over. Jarod was gone, they didn't have a lead on either of the pretenders, and it was time to get back to work.

    A bit grudgingly he leaned forward and reached for his daily planner, flipping through the pages to see what things he had yet to have accomplished.

    _Project reports due next week… I missed that meeting with the law firm representative (no big loss there)… Raines sets out tonight…  Wait, what?_

He paused and reread his handwriting. Sure enough, Raines did leave tonight to go check on the progress being made on the project that he and Lyle were involved in. In fact, the wheezing doctor was supposed to be at the airport in an hour or so. And, assuming that Raines had not been feeding him false reassurances that he was coming too, Lyle had to be there with him. With a stream of inaudible cusswords, the director's son sprang up from his seat and headed out of his office to go and find his "partner".

*******

"What do you mean, 'we're having problems'?" Raines snarled angrily into the phone. He listened for a moment to the shaky voice on the other end, ignoring Cox's high and mighty smirk. Finally, completely fed up, he barked into the phone, "You better have the problems fixed by the time I arrive", hung up on the tech, and silently seethed.

    "Having problems, are we? Technical difficulties? I'm not surprised. Somehow, no matter the odds, you always manage to pull through at the last moment and screw everything up."

    Both Raines and Cox swiveled around to see Lyle leaning against the doorframe, arms folded casually across his chest, and a malevolent gleam in his eye.

   He couldn't have looked more arrogant if he'd tried.

   "Lyle? Where the hell have you been?" Raines rasped out slowly, ignoring Lyle's insult and egotistical posture. "Jarod and Elf 17 broke into the Centre yesterday, and the Tower is in an uproar. Not only that, but we'll be leaving for the airport in an hour or so and I seriously doubt that you're ready."

   "Jarod had set up a little surprise for us**--** we got delayed." His gaze flickered over to Cox and he raised an eyebrow. "What is **_he_** doing here?"

   " '**_He_**' will be accompanying you both to check on Project Location," Mr. Cox said smoothly, rising from his seat and putting his hands in his coat pockets. "Raines and I have made an arrangement of sorts concerning… concerning a new variable in the 'equation'."

   Lyle gave a sound of acknowledgement. "Is that so? Interesting. But, back to business, what seems to be the problem, Raines?"

   "The technicians at the project's site have informed me that they're having a problem with the programming." He paused to take in some breaths. "A problem that, it seems, has left them nearly a week behind schedule. They're trying to bring in some new people to help with the problem, but every qualified tech is already there."

   "So, in short, we're screwed," Lyle said sardonically. 

   "Not necessarily," Cox interrupted calmly. "The Centre has a few capable technicians here, I'm sure that we could take one with us without disrupting anything."

   Raines turned. "Like who?" 

   "How about your new tech, Raines?" Lyle suggested with a slight smirk. "Since he's officially working under you, we won't have to fill out any release forms, and he **_is_** one of the best here."

   Dr. Raines seemed to consider the idea, and Cox looked at him sharply.

   "But did you not give him this weekend off, Raines?"

   "Your point being?"

   "My point being that it wouldn't be wise to bring him. I'd thought we'd already discussed what stress like this can do to people, and**--**"

   "I believe," Raines hissed icily, "that you are not in charge of this venture, nor the decisions I make regarding **_my_** employees." Turning to Lyle he then said, "We'll swing by Mr. Broots' home on the way to the airport. You should go and collect your things."

   After Lyle had left (shooting the Triumvirate agent a triumphant smirk) Cox turned and glared at Raines in loathing. 

   "You are making a mistake. There is enough time still to find a different technician and sign the release forms, and you should do so."

   The doctor merely gave a small and evil grin at Cox's warning. "You obviously didn't read up well enough on Mr. Broots. I've told you before, the man couldn't grow a backbone."

   "And as **_I've_** said before, Dr. Raines, you'd be surprised what men will grow when pushed to far." He narrowed his eyes. "But I suppose you'll find that out on your own."

   Raines watched as he strode out and let the door close audibly behind him. The doctor rolled his eyes and shook his head exasperatedly.

     "Him and his dramatic exits…" 

8:18 pm, Saturday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Broots' Home

(**Broots**)

"Where should I put this one, dad?" Debbie asks me, holding up a sparkling ornament.

   I look our Christmas tree up and down. "Hm, I think we need a few more on the left. Help balance it out a little."

   She grins and gives a playful salute. "Yes sir."

   I shake my head with amusement and watch as she continues to decorate the tree. This is so wonderful. All of it. The festive music seeping out softly from my outdated stereo, the white snow visible on our windowsill, the tree in the middle of the living room with all of the presents piled underneath… and my daughter. I can't help but smile every time I look at her. She's a vision of innocence and kindness. Many times I think that she's the only reason that I didn't fall apart after the divorce. She's the glue that holds the fabric of my reality together and without her, I don't think I'd have a reason to live.

   "Dad," she says lightheartedly, interrupting my thoughts, "stop staring at me like that. It's making me uncomfortable."

   "Sorry honey. I just can't help but how beautiful you're becoming." I do a mocking pout. "Someday you'll leave me to go get rich and famous, and I'll be left all alone in this little old house."

   She laughs. "Dad, if I leave and become rich and famous, I'll make sure that you're left 'all alone' on a tropical island." She waggles her eyebrows. "If you increase my allowance I might even be able to let you stay on an island with lots of beautiful women."

   "Nice try, kiddo," I say, giving her a look.

   She sighs. "Ah well. It was worth a shot."

   I roll my eyes and she just winks and goes back to decorating. Oh, the enigma that is a fourteen-year-old. 

   I'm still mildly surprised that Raines followed through on his promise to let me come home. A large part of me had been worried sick that he'd change his mind at the last moment, and that I wouldn't be able to spend Christmas with my daughter. But it seems that there is someone looking out for me after all. I'd even been able to drop off the packages that Astrea had given me without being noticed. My own present is under the tree at the moment, along with all of the other things I'd picked up in a last minute shopping spree for Debbie. I'll unwrap my gift tomorrow, while Debbie opens hers.

   "Dad? What present do you think I should open?"

   "Huh?" I ask in confusion as she once again breaks into my thoughts.

   "Remember our tradition? One present on Christmas eve?"

   "Oh! Of course." How could I have forgotten? We've been following that little custom ever since Debbie was three. 

   "So… which one should I pick?"

   I move over to sit on the couch. "I don't know."

   "Hmm…" she stares silently at the wrapped boxes in concentration and then smiles and grabs one; a small, shoebox sized gift. She comes and sits beside me, and looks up at me for permission. I smile and nod my head, and she unwraps it.

   "Wow!" she gasps as she pulls it out. "You… you got me my own cell phone?!" 

   I grin at her joyous expression. "Yeah. It's all ready and set to go, too. It works on pre-paid minutes, and I've already put my cell number, Ms. Parker's number, your friend's numbers in the memory."

   "This is… this is so cool." She suddenly hugs me. "Thank you!"

   I return her embrace and pat her back tenderly. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

   "Are you going to open yours now?"

   "Mine?" 

   She points to Astrea's package. "That one. I saw you bring it in when you came home. Is it from a co-worker?"

   "Kind of…" 

   Her eyes brighten with elation. "It's from a woman isn't it? Come on, you can tell me!"

   I give her a half smile. "It's from a woman, but not like you're thinking."

   "Sure," she says, rolling her eyes. "But… are you going to open it?"

   "Now?"

   "Christmas eve tradition! Remember?" 

   "I think that only applies to you, honey."

   " Pleeease?" She does a fake puppy-lip pout and I can't help but laugh.

   "Okay, you win. But after that we pop in 'It's a Wonderful Life' and watch it until we fall asleep. Deal?"

   "Deal!" 

   With a theatrical sigh I get up and grab the present from under the tree, and return to the couch. Debbie watches attentively as I pull the tissue paper out of the bag, probably more eager than I am to find out what's inside. 

   Once the tissue paper is all out and on my lap, I reach in and draw out a CD. I flip it over to look at the title, and then burst out laughing. The CD is a single, and the song is none other than "Hotel California".

   While I'm holding back chuckles, Debbie simply gives me a bedazzled look. "What's so funny dad?"

   "It's**--**" more laughter "**--** it's just a private joke honey." I cough back another snicker and compose myself. "One of the first things I told my friend about myself was that I liked the song."

   "Ooh, that's sweet," she says fondly, smiling at the CD. I shoot her a look, knowing what that tone implies, and she just smirks.

   I look at the CD, remembering the song, and then stand up and move over to our stereo, taking out the disc as I do so. 

   "Are you going to play it?"

   "Yeah," I answer, popping it in the slot and pushing PLAY. "Let's see if I remember the tune."

   The song starts up and the words remind me of when Astrea had learned of this song. I grin at the memory as I listen to the lyrics.

_… I heard the mission bell_

_And I was thinking to myself_

_This could be Heaven or this could be Hell_

Both Debbie and I suddenly turn towards the front door as we hear the doorbell ring. Debbie looks at me questioningly, and I just shake my head to show my confusion. I turn down the volume on the song, and slowly make my way over to the entrance. Debbie rises from the couch and watches wonderingly.

   I open the door, expecting a neighbor come to wish us Merry Christmas, or a group of carolers from the church down the lane, and I'm faced instead by Lyle and three of his lackey's.

   I'm in such a state of shock that the director's son and his muscle men easily push past me, entering my home uninvited.

   I'm able to think again, and I spin around from the doorway and move into the living room, where Lyle is looking at my holiday embellishments with a slight sneer on his face. Instinctively, I move to step beside Debbie, who is staring at the four newcomers with bafflement.

   "Quite the setup you have here, Broots," Lyle says with a smirk, still gazing around. "Though the music doesn't really go with the decorations…"

   "What are you doing here?" I ask quietly, drenched in fear.

   He turns towards me, his eyes gleaming manically in the festive lighting. "Me? I'm just here to wish you a Merry Christmas."

   "Who are these people, dad?" Debbie asks, gazing up at me in concern and uncertainty.

   Lyle seems to notice her for the first time, and he gazes over at me, and a smile comes to his lips. The smile grows wider, and wider. Satanic. Crazy. 

   "Pretty girl," he says, and seems to study her. Not the way an adult should look at a child. Ever.

   He starts to move forward and I walk in front of Debbie and block him off.

   "Get away from her," I whisper.

   "Or?"

   "Dad?" Debbie says again, her voice shaking as she moves farther behind me.

   "What do you want?" I'm surprised at how steady my voice is, how reasonable, because I want to grab a pencil and bury it in Lyle's eye.

   "You're going to come with me, Broots. And you're not going to argue, and you're not going to struggle." He grins like a skull. "You're going to be an obedient little doggie."

   What am I going to do? I've stood up to them before, stood up to Raines, even when they'd threatened to hurt me. But I knew that Raines wasn't going to cut off my head and stick my body in a wood chipper just because it was a slow afternoon. But I can't just leave my daughter.

   Finally, though I'm sickened and scared out of my wits, I shake my head. "No. I'm not going anywhere."

   I back up from him, feeling the fine trembling of Debbie's muscles as she clings to my arm. Lyle takes a few steps towards me, never taking his eyes off of Debbie. Don't you look at her. Don't you**--**

   Suddenly, I remember the pictures that Jarod had sent of Lyle's immigrant wife. She had been very young too. Debbie is still just a kid, but in a couple of years **--** one or two **--**

   Lyle's wife had been beaten to death and dumped in the desert, and the Centre had covered it up. Boys will be boys. Oh Lord, don't you look at my daughter. Don't you dare. 

   "Don't make this difficult doggie," Lyle says softly, dangerously. "Just step away from her and come with me. I might break her arm if I have to pull her off of you."

   I can't keep it in this time, and it bursts out of me in a raw and savage snarl. "Don't you even think of touching her!"

   His eyebrows raise and he looks at one of the sweepers behind him. "Doggie has teeth. Break them."

   I give Debbie a push in the direction of the staircase. She hesitates for a moment, only a moment, before she sees the look in my eyes and sprints up the stairs. One of the sweepers stares at Lyle questioningly, wondering if he should go up after her, but Lyle shakes his head. 

   "Not now. We're just getting what we came for. Raines is still waiting in the car**--**" he looks over at me. "**--**and we're keeping him waiting."

    " I'm not going anywhere," I repeat slowly, rage building inside of me.

    Lyle's face closes up at this, but his eyes give him away. No more pretty-boy shallow amusement. What is in those eyes isn't quite sane.

    "On second thought Jones, go get the girl. It seems that Mr. Broots needs some convinc--"

    **_"I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH HER!!!" _**

    In a sightless fury I leap at Jones, taking him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. I attack him with a frenzied passion, punching him and scratching his face. The other two sweepers rush forward and manage to pull me off of him before attempting to hold me down. 

    My eyes blinded by rage and the instinct to protect my daughter, I fight them, lashing out with blows fueled by ferocity and wrath. Wildly I struggle, fiercely striking with a vicious intensity. Though they are taken aback at first by the fever of my resistance, they are readily adapting and soon have me pinned against a wall. 

   A blow to my head then stops my movement all together.

*******

   "That tech is starting to get on my nerves," Lyle muttered to himself as he looked down at Broots, crumpled and unconscious on the floor. He glanced over at the three sweepers. Jones had a swollen eye, some scratches on his faces and what looked like bloody teeth, another sweeper had a rapidly swelling jaw, and the last one had a bleeding nose. However, they all stood straight and tall, ignoring the wounds and awaiting Lyle's orders.

   The director's son jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. "Take him out and load him in the backseat of the second car. Make sure he doesn't wake up until we arrive at the airport. We've taken too long as it is."

   One of them reached down and easily picked Broots up and slung him over his shoulder, while the other two followed him out. One minute later Lyle opened the front door on the right side of the first car parked outside of the Broots home. He got in beside the driver, a sweeper, and closed the door and buckled up. 

   "What took so long, Lyle?" Raines rasped from the back seat. 

   Sitting next to him, Cox chuckled. "Haven't you guessed, Dr. Raines? It seems your technician was not as spineless as you and Mr. Lyle had thought."

   "It was just a snag," Lyle grumbled heatedly. "That was all. Nothing we couldn't take care of."

   Cox just smiled a damnable smile, and the driver gunned up the engine and started driving.

*******

Debbie Broots had crept downstairs cautiously only a minute after the ruckus downstairs had quieted. She'd briefly glanced at the at the small spot of blood on the wall, the fallen Christmas tree and a few of the presents whose wrapping had been ripped when they'd been stepped on, but mostly ignored them as she'd moved to the window.

   She stood there now, drawing a portion of the curtains back with one hand, gazing out at the two black cars parked along the curb and watching as they drove off silently, probably taking her father with them. 

    The music from her father's CD (that had been quietly repeating the song this whole time) was still seeping softly out of the speaker as she stood there, staring. But she only stood there a moment longer, before she fell to her knees and wept.

_…Mirrors on the ceiling_

_Pink champagne on ice_

_And she said,_

_We are all just prisoners here_

_Of our own device_

In his car the sweeper called Willie opened an envelope addressed to him, and found half of a 'Best Friends' necklace hidden inside of a Christmas card.

_And in the Masters chambers_

_They gathered for the feast_

_They stab it with their steely knives_

_But they just can't kill the beast_

And up above the halls of the Centre, the boy christened Timmy put on a sweatshirt he'd discovered in the air vents, the first Christmas gift he'd received in twenty-nine years. 

_Last thing I remember_

_I was running for the door_

_I had to find a passage back_

_To the place I was before _

And the little girl named Debbie sobbed into the sleeves of her sweater, the happiness of Christmas crushed and dripping away in every tear that slid down her pale cheeks. 

_Relax, said the night man_

_We are programmed to receive_

_You can check out any time you like…_

_But you can never leave._

********************************************************************************

**Review Returns:**

   Ann: You're past college?! And you're reading my story?! And you're REVIEWING it?! OMG! Wow. This is… this is amazing… Um, thanks for my review and…and… Thank you so much!!! 

P.S 

   You're right about the computer geeks. There's just something about them.

   Pez7701: Sorry I couldn't post as soon as you'd probably hoped, but I hope that you aren't too mad at me that you won't review again. You're one of my favorite reviewers.

   Ievandie: Hope you're enjoying Holland, and maybe the whole "Christmas thing" will not seem so weird now that it's November. I'm also glad that my writing is able to spice up my story for you.

   Pretender fanatic: Wow. That was a long review… thanks. Oh, and yeah you can use the whole "feral" thing in a story if you want (if you haven't already done so). It's no problem as long as you don't copy my plot. Thanks again for your compliments and good luck!

   Midnight Moon: I never knew that my story could save someone's life… cool. (Lol) Thanks for the sympathy and the review, and I'm happy to have you aboard!

   Whitefire: Hey whitefire. Didn't think I'd be hearing from you again, but I'm glad that I have. Thanks for the reviews and yes, Cox is an excellent villain. Oh, and I'll try not to be stereotypical when writing from Ms. Parker's point of view.

Though the ending to this chapter was not as perky as some of my others, I still hope you enjoyed it, and I'll be desperately and anxiously waiting in limbo for any feedback you can give me.

      ---- Talk to you soon! (But, by 'soon', I might very well mean a month or so, though I'll strive to get my next one up as early as possible)


	14. Troubled Mornings

**Disclaimer:** I don't own nothing.

**Rating:** Whatever floats your boat. (PG**---**PG-13 for those of you who have trouble making up your mind) 

**Summary:** Someone contacts Ms. Parker, Astrea finds hope and happiness in the Christmas holiday, and Lia meets someone new.

**Feedback:** Pleeeeeeeeeeasse!

**!!!Author's Note!!!:I'm incorporating "When He Thinks That I'm Not Looking" into this chapter, and so if you haven't read it you might want to. You'll still understand the chapter if you don't read it, but it would explain things in more detail. **

**Quote:**

**                      "A human being is nothing but a story with skin around it."**

_-----Fred Allen_

**************************************_ShadowElfBard_************************************

3:55 am, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Ms. Parker's Home

(**Ms. Parker**)

"What the hell?" I murmur to myself blurrily as I rise from sleep, awoken by the persistently irritating ringing of my phone. Deciding to ignore and go back to bed, I put my head down once more until a sudden thought hits me.

   What if it's Jarod calling?

   Thoughts of returning to sleep gone, I bolt up and hurriedly grope around on my bedside table until my hand finds its mark. I raise the phone to my ear.

   "This better be good," I grumble into it, too tired to bark out a proper Parker greeting, and not wanting to scare Jarod away if it's him calling.

   "M-ms. Parker?" comes a little voice from the other side. I hear a sniffle. "Is… is that you?"

   My forehead creases with puzzlement as I realize that the voice on the other end is not the master pretender, but Debbie.

   "Debbie?" I ask calmly, slowly, trying to get the obviously distressed girl's attention. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

   "I-it was a-a man. He-" sniff "- he took my dad."

   My eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected message. "A man?"

   "Mhm. It, it was a man and, and he had th-three other guys with him. They… they were all wearing black."

   "Debbie, now this is important, did the three men have on black glasses? Were they swee-" I stop myself from saying 'sweepers', realizing that Debbie probably has no clue what it means, but as I'm trying to come up a substitute for the word, she answers my question.

   "Yes, they w-were sweepers."

    I furrow my brow in confusement, wondering how in the world she knew that term.

    "Ms. Parker? Are, are you still there?" the girl asks frantically, frightened by my silence.

   Realizing that this kid is terrified and panicking, I come to a quick conclusion. "Debbie, I'm going to get Sydney and come over in a few minutes. I want you to stay in the house, with the doors and windows locked, the curtains closed, and the lights shut off. Don't answer the door if you don't see me through the peephole. We'll be right over, so just sit tight until then, okay?"

   "O-okay." 

   "All right, see you soon."

   After I hear the dial tone I hang up and get out of bed, moving over to the dresser. Once I've slipped some clothes on (some plain black slacks and a red shirt), and I've brushed my hair, I grab my car keys and rush out the door into the night.

   What a wonderful way to start the morning.

                                                                      *******

"Debbie!" I yell at the closed door. "Sydney and I are here!" I rub my arms against the frigid air as I wait for the locks to be undone, Sydney shivering quietly beside me. The door opens slowly, hesitantly, before it's flung open with a mustered confidence.

   "Ms. Parker!" Debbie shouts once I come inside. She immediately hugs me, and begins crying into my shirt, "I was so scared… I didn't think you'd come…"

   I stiffen when she hugs me, feeling uncomfortable with the embrace and the girl's sobbing, but slowly I wrap my other arm around her and comfort her while Syd smiles at the scene.

    "Shhh, shh. It's okay Debbie. Why wouldn't I come?" I ask her softly, trying to calm her down.

    "It's just that some--" sniff "--sometimes you're really, really busy and you d-don't like to be dis-disturbed and…"

   Though I try not to show it, her words are a bullet to my heart. 

   I tighten my arms around her, feeling horrible that my 'ice queen' visage could have made this child believe that I would abandon her for my work. I feel even worse when I wonder if it's true. 

   After a moment more or two of soothing words and hugs, Debbie moves to the couch and I sit beside her. Sydney stands in front of her, his psychiatrist game face on, warm and consoling.

   While he asks her to explain what had happened, I finally realize what a mess this place is. The tree is toppled over, a few of the ornaments are in pieces on the floor, presents are strewn everywhere, a few ripped or crushed, and there is-- if I'm not mistaken --blood on the wall.

   I look into Sydney's eyes with shock, my eyes telling him how horrified I am. He nods slowly, sadly, and then turns to Debbie.

   "So your father had gone to open the door, then what?"

   "There, there was a man. He was dressed in a business suit and had three sweepers with him. They pushed past my dad and came in." She looks over at me. "I think the man was Mr. Lyle, but I don't really remember what he looks like that well…"

   Freud and I exchange a glance, both mentally calculating what it would mean if it was Lyle who'd come.

   "Debbie, after these men came in… did they say why they were there?"

   "The man in the business suit said something about my dad needing to come with him. He, he made it sound like if my dad didn't go then my dad would be… he would be hurt."

   I furrow my brow at the uncomfortable sound in her voice. "The 'man' didn't threaten you, did he Debbie?"

   "No… not really, but…" she hugs her arms and lowers her voice to a whisper. "He looked at me."

   "He looked at…? Oh." Sydney breaks off in understanding, and I see him clench his fists.

   _That bastard, _I think with fury, my nostrils flaring. _I'll kill him… and this time I'll make sure he _stays_ dead. _And it was as I bubbled over with rage at the thought of the lewd looks my demented twin must have given her that I thought of something.

   "Debbie," I say suddenly, cutting off whatever question Freud had been going to ask, "how did your father react?"

   She furrows her brow. "I don't under--"

   "When the man was looking at you. How did your father react?"

   "Oh!" she's silent for a moment. "Well, he told the guy not to… not to think of touching me." she shudders briefly at the thought. "But I didn't really get to see what happened next because then he ordered me to run upstairs."

    Both Sydney and I process this information as she continues.

   "Then, when I was upstairs, my dad yelled something. I, I couldn't understand him but I heard… fighting, afterwards.

   "I came down after it was quiet and…" she clenches her eyes shut. "There was blood on the wall and the men were driving away. I didn't see what happened to my dad." She stares down at the carpet. "There's nothing more to tell, really. After it happened I sort of… sort of cried myself to sleep. When I woke up I called you."

   I glance over at the wall Debbie had mentioned and see the spot of blood. It's not that large, so whoever was injured is probably fine, but the thought does nothing to ease my worry. Especially because I'm betting that the blood doesn't belong to the sweepers.

   "Debbie?"

   The girl looks up at Sydney. "Hm?"

   "You look a bit chilly, why don't we get you some hot chocolate?"

   "Okay. S-Sure."

   Freud leads her into the kitchen, his arm comfortingly around her shoulder. I watch them and then sit down on the couch, letting out a deep sigh and running my hands through my hair.  

   "God Broots," I whisper to the empty room,  "why didn't you just run?"

   "Because he needed to protect his daughter."

   I look up, and see that Sydney is back in the living room, his hands in his pockets as he stares at me.

   I give him a small smile. "You set the kid up with some hot cocoa?"

   He nods. "She decided to make her own. She wasn't able to stop anything that happened last night and needs to feel some sort of control right now. If making her own hot chocolate helps, then I am certainly not against it."

   He sits beside me. "So, what do you think?"

   I straighten up. "Well this definitely sounds like Lyle. We might need some prints to prove it but--"

   "I meant," he interrupts softly, "what do you think has happened to Broots?"

   "Oh. That." I sigh. "I want to believe that he's all right, but you never know. Lyle could have killed him and stuffed him in the trunk of a car, he could be full of experimental drugs that the Centre's made, he could be injured and wandering around in the snow somewhere… The list goes on and on."

   "So whatever the case, you don't think he's alive and well?"

   I scoff bitterly. "You saw the blood too, Syd. He's probably dead."

   There's suddenly a loud crash from behind us. Both Sydney and I turn around to see Debbie standing in the kitchen doorway, a the glass pieces of a broken mug lying in front of her feet in a pool of hot chocolate. She's staring at us in complete and utter horror, her eyes bulged wide and her lips parted slightly. 

   "Dead?" she whispers, an obvious lump in her throat. "**_Dead_**?"

   Sydney stands up quickly and he takes a small, non-threatening step forward. "Debbie…"

   "No," a trace of anger and panic invades her voice. "Don't."

    She backs away hurriedly, and slips on the linoleum, falling on her bum. Sydney moves forward to help her, but she scuttles away backwards until she's up against the kitchen wall, her eyes wide and fearful.

   "I knew it, I knew it," she babbles to herself in a loud whisper, almost at the point of hysterics. "I knew it, I read the files, I knew it. I should have told him what I knew, he would've quit, I knew it, I **_knew_** it…"

   I stand up and walk in to stand beside Sydney, and he kneels beside her, his face puzzled. "Knew what, Debbie?"

   Her eyes, once again moist with tears and rimmed red, look into his asking for forgiveness. "I know about the Centre. I didn't mean to, but I didn't really know where he works; he never told me. I didn't mean to learn about it, I swear…"

   An unsettling suspicion nestles in the pit of my stomach. "Debbie, what do you mean you know about the Centre? What exactly do you know about it?"

   Her lips quiver, and when she answers it's in a whisper. "Everything. I-I know about Jarod, and Ms. Catherine, and Mr. Raines, and Mr. Lyle, and Angelo…"

   I feel as though I've had the wind knocked out of me. Running my hands through my hair I pace, listening with shock as she lists the people and projects of the Centre. She knows about pretenders, knows about the red files, knows about my mother's murder, knows of Lyle's cannibalistic habits…. Everything! She knows everything!

   Debbie goes quiet, and her head lowers, not having enough strength to keep it up.

   Sydney looks over at me, the same stunned astonishment on his face. We both look back down at Debbie, who's hugging her knees as she heaves dry sobs, too dehydrated and drained to cry anymore tears. Freud and I both still have questions, we both still want answers, but even I can't bring myself to ask them. The girl is going through too much right now. 

   "M-Ms. Parker?" the teenager in question brings her head up slowly and with an obvious effort. "Do… do you really think that my dad is," she takes a shaky breath, "that my dad's dead?"

   "I don't know," I answer her truthfully. "I wish I did."

   Sydney steps in quickly and adds, "Your father is very resourceful Debbie. Don't write him off just yet."

   She nods, although hesitantly. "O-Okay. Ms. Parker?"

   "Yes?"

   "I know that it's ear-early and that you both probably want to go back, back to sleep, but…" she bites her lip. "Do you think that you both could stay here? With me?"

   I'm so touched that for a moment I almost go over and hug and console her. But years of training immediately step in, and I instead give her a sweet smile. "Of course, Debbie."

   She gives a strong, happy grin, and then the emotional onslaught finally breaks through her barriers and she falls asleep before our eyes.

5:37 am, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Holiday Inn

Room 109

(**Astrea**)

What do I do now?

   I've probably asked myself that question nearly twenty times within the past hour. Even when I was sleeping (which I'd found very hard to do after I'd finished reading Raines' file) I was suffering from anxiety. My dreams are troubled, my mood swinging precariously, and my mind lost in a fog. Jarod, being the self-sacrificing hero that he's always been, tried to comfort me of course. So had Arthur. Both were obviously as stunned about the information as I was, and both as worried, but more fearful of how I'd react to it.

   I have an explanation for what's happening, at least. After an hour of sifting through files, I'd found my own. Within it, had been the answer to the question of why the cells that made me unique were active again. Pissed does not even come close to describing my mood right now. There is no curse in English, Latin, Egyptian, Korean, Portuguese or even German that comes close to conveying my rage at what I've once again found out about.

    For it seems that during our brief stay at the Centre, Jarod was not the only one to receive a dose of CW-A-41.

   Ah, yes. The amnesiac-creating chemical that had afflicted Jarod and gave me hell during our escape was used on me. Apparently, one day after our return I was administered a very, very small dose that had been almost entirely diluted in a glass of water handed to me by Lyle after one of our 'work-out' sessions. According to the file, however, the chemical was not entirely the same as Jarod's. For Jarod's was made to immediately repress memories of his past, while my small dose was altered to be on a time-release. In other terms, they blocked my memories of what happened three minutes after I was given that water. From what I've read, I was taken to Raines where he'd administered the concoction that had activated the cells within me last time through an injection in my wrist. And as I never remember that happening, I'd say that the small dose of CW-A-41 did its job afterwards.

   "As-Astrea?" 

   I turn away from the window I was gazing out of and see Arthur rising from the other bed with a yawn. He rubs his eyes.

   "Wh-What are you doing up so early? It can't be more than six at the most."

   I give him a half-hearted smile. "Couldn't sleep. There's too much to think about to sleep."

   He groans. "Between you and Jarod, I'm amazed that either of you can function. You both are practically insomniacs. It's not healthy."

   I grin at him cheekily and he just sighs and shakes his head. "Oh, why do I even bother? But, speaking of Jarod, where is he?"

   "Went to the 24-hour mini-mart for coffee," I respond calmly, making room on the bed for Arthur to sit beside me.

   "How wonderful," he comments dryly. "He can't sleep and so he runs out to get caffeine."

   I give him a lightly patronizing look. "He's a grown man, Arthur, and a genius to boot. I don't really think that you're in the position to be criticizing his sugar cravings and night owl routine."

   "That may be true," he responds grudgingly, "but it's not very responsible. He left you up all alone and--"

   In a sudden epiphany I realize the reason for his mood. "Arthur. Arthur!"

   "Hm?"

   I smile sweetly at him. "Thank you for caring about me, but I'll be okay, really. This thing… I've dealt with surprises like this before, I can do it again."

   "But I want to help," he whispers, a look of sorrow passing into his eyes. "It's… it's so appallingly atrocious what they've done to you. You're just a child."

   "I know. But I can't change what I've gone through and what I am. And neither can you, Arthur. Or Jarod. The best we can do is work through what's going on now, and use our past experiences to build a foundation for a better future." I look down at my lap. "What I saw on that computer screen… that's not going to go away. I am ill, and I can't change that fact. What I **_can_** do is find out how to get better."

   "And I'll help you," says Jarod, suddenly walking through the door. He sets down his cup of coffee and comes to sit beside Arthur and I on the edge of the bed. "We'll figure this thing out together."

   I smile at him, and then at Arthur, my spirit rising with joy.

   Arthur too seems touched. He takes off his glasses, wipes his eyes, and then puts them back on again with a sniff. "This is all so moving. We should do something now."

   "We could hug," Jarod says jokingly.

   "Or hold hands and sing," I pipe in with a laugh.

   Arthur suddenly springs up. "I've got it!" He dashes over to the coat closet, and pulls out a shopping bag full of wrapped presents. 

   "It is Christmas morning, right? Well, since we're all apparently up and awake, I think that this is the most opportune time to open our gifts from one another."

   Before either Jarod or I can protest, he's handed out the presents and is sitting down on the bed with his own gleaming wrapped parcel.

   "Well," Arthur prompts us, "go on and open them!"

   I look down at my two gifts, one from Arthur and the other from Jarod, and nod my head at the master pretender. "You should open yours first. I'll go last."

   Jarod picks up his present from me, sends me a small smile, and then unwraps it. 

   "So… do you like it?" I ask him hesitantly.

   He stares at it, his lips parted slightly. "It's… wow. How did you… how did you know that…?"

   "How do people like us know anything, Jarod?" I whisper.

   He looks down at it once more, a memory from his past at the Centre, when he had befriended a slow but kind janitor. A silver paperweight, fashioned to look like an origami crane. I know, too, of the sad memories that come with this gift, but I'd hoped when I'd bought it that it would also make him remember the feeling of joy he'd experienced before.

   He finally gazes up at me again, obviously touched by my insight. "Thank you. This means a lot."

   "You're welcome," I return. I clear my throat. "Arthur, do you want to open yours next?"?

   "I already have," he says, giving me a wide and wonderful grin. He holds up his present, a glass chess set, with obvious delight. "This is very sweet of you Astrea, and I thank you. Perhaps you should open yours now, though, hm?"

   "All right, all right," I relent. 

   I open Jarod's first, and laugh out loud at the notebook he picked out with the silver drawing of the wolf on the cover. I thank him for it with a hug, and then slowly open the small box from Arthur. It's delicately wrapped, and the tissue paper inside is a cotton-colored white. Underneath that paper though, is something that takes my breath away. 

   It's a necklace of stunning black onyx, with a pendant of enchanting emerald hanging regally from the center. I pick it up with awe.

   He watches me eagerly. "Is it… is it all right? Do you like it?"

   "This is amazing, Arthur," I breathe, drowning in the shimmering green of the adornment. "It's more beautiful than anything I've ever… thanks."

   "Think nothing of it, my dear," he says gentlemanly, standing and taking a bow.

   And for once, my mind is free of troubles and worries. And with this newfound freedom, I allow myself to laugh and smile with my two friends as I bask in a sensation of bliss that only Christmas can bring.

5:51 am

Passing over the Mediterranean Sea

Centre Jet

(**Lia**)

Squirming uncomfortably in my chair, I sigh for what has to be the fifth time in the past hour. Boredom, the bane of my existence, has me in its clutches once again.

   I was fine two hours ago**--** I'd been able to sleep then. But then I'd woken up, and everything had gone downhill from there. I bet I've been on this godforsaken plane for at **_least_** eight hours. That's waaaay more time than I usually have to spend sitting in one spot. Then again, I'm usually not being held captive by psychotic corporate executives.

   Yep, I'm still with the freaks. I'd been "escorted" to this damnable aircraft yesterday night, and buckled into a chair in what I know is the lowest class seating area on this thing. Then I'd had to wait an hour, just sitting here, with no company whatsoever save for my snazzy suit-wearing guards. The strange bodyguard from before was there too (the one who lied to that guy Raines), but he didn't make eye contact. …Or maybe he did. I don't know. It's hard to tell from behind those stupid black sunglasses they wear. But, like I was saying, after the hour of nothingness, the bodyguards had left and supposedly gone to the front of the plane. When they'd come back, they'd been dragging an unconscious man with them.

   You read right, they pulled in a dude who looked like he'd passed out over one to many drinks. They'd set him in a seat directly across the aisle from mine, and then left the two of us back here… alone. Then the plane had started off. And so far, my strange new companion hasn't been much of a chatterbox, if you know what I mean. He's been out cold through this whole stinking trip! And it's driving me freakin' insane! The guy isn't even that interesting to look at. Despite a few bruises, a split lip, and one heck of a nasty mark on his forehead that's going to give him hell when he wakes up, he's your normal Joe. And who knows how many more hours we have until we arrive at wherever it is we're going.

    God, what I wouldn't give for my CD player…

    "Urgg…"

   I give a little jump in surprise at the new sound and quickly look in the direction of my usually silent travel companion. I watch as his eyes slowly open, and notice that he's moaning groggily as he comes to. It seems that Sleeping Beauty is finally awakening.   

   "What the hell…?" he murmurs to himself as he shakes off the last vestiges of sleep.

   He gazes around him slowly, and starts to panic as he notices that one of his hands is manacled to his seat. He struggles against the restraint more out of instinct than anything else, though I do get the impression that there's something else worrying him, but when he sees me studying him curiously, he freezes.

   "Er… hello."

   I give a little wave.

   He responds with a nervous smile, and then licks his dry lips. "Um… uh… yeah."

   I feel like laughing out loud at how uncomfortable he is. The unease he's experiencing is coming off of him in waves. He obviously wants to know who I am and why I'm here, and the irony of it all is painfully humorous. I want to know about him, he wants to know about me, and neither of us is really able to just come right out and ask. **_I_** can't for obvious reasons, and he seems just a tad too timid to be that bold. We'll probably end up staring at each other like this until the plane lands or hell freezes over**--** whichever happens to come first.

   He stares at me a moment longer, seems to jump slightly in surprise at something, calms down, narrows his eyes, relaxes them, and then sighs. "You're Astrea's sister aren't you?"

    Okay, so maybe not.

   Who? 

    He blinks at me, and his mouthparts slightly. "Are…Are you deaf?"

    I give a silent chuckle of amusement. If I was deaf, I wouldn't be able to answer the question then, would I?

   He too, seems to notice his mistake and rolls his eyes. "Oh, right." He clears his throat. "My name is Broots, and, as my former boss loved to remind me, I can be a real idiot sometimes."

   Encouraged by my smile, he continues. "Er, since you're obviously not deaf, you're probably signing because you're mute. And, because I never learned sign language, I guess this conversation is going to be really one-sided unless I ask just yes-or-no questions."

   I nod.

   "Oh well. I guess that means no formal introductions, huh? At least I won't have to worry about remembering your name." His eyes suddenly widen as he gets an idea. "Wait! I can guess the letters, can't I?"

   I shrug, using my body language to tell him 'sure, what the hell'.

   "All right, we'll just go through the alphabet then. Does your name start with an 'A'?"

   Shaking my head negatively, I mentally groan as I prepare myself for what will undoubtedly be a very, very, **_very_** long flight.

************************************************************************************

**Review Returns:**

   Rem-Cycle: Thanks for the very long and detailed review! Yes, "Hotel California" rocks. There's just no denying it.  Also, I never knew what a lynch pin was, so thanks for teaching me something new. :-) Once again, thanks for the review and I'll try not to hurt Broots _too _much. *wink*

   Ann: Aw, thanks. *blush* It's nice to hear that obsessed fourteen and fifteen year-olds aren't the only people writing and reading fan fiction.  Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

   Pez7701: Thank you for your review, Pez old buddy, old pal. I hope that this chapter didn't disappoint either.

   Pretender Fanatic: I made you cry?! AND my story is your favorite Pretender fiction?! Wow. I feel like I've won an award of some sort… thanks. Also, as to your summary idea, I'll think on it. It's not that bad a notion, actually. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and be sure to update your own story soon!


	15. Here A Sigh, There A Sigh

**Disclaimer:** I wish I did own it. The show wouldn't have been cancelled, that's for sure. But, as it is, I can claim no part of it. 

**Rating:** I trust in your ability to decide whether or not you have the maturity level to handle this level of sophistication. *snicker, snort* Sophistication… yeah, right.

**Summary:** We get to spend more time with Lia and Broots, and Ms. Parker has to make her first choice in a line of difficult decisions.

**Feedback:** Y-E-S spells 'yes'. (Please!)

**Quote:**

**              "Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there." **

_                                                                                    -----Will Rogers_

**************************************_ShadowElfBard_************************************

7:09 AM, Sunday

Flying Over The Borderline Between The Persian Gulf And Iran

The Centre Jet

(**Broots**)

The view up here is incredible, it really is. The blue water shining with the virgin light of morning, the puffy white clouds, the sapphire sky… the, um, the shining fire of the sun, and…er… uh…

    Oh, screw it. I'm not fooling anyone. There's no beauty, no splendor, no "virgin light", or sapphire sky. Not while I'm being held prisoner on a plane and my daughter is thousands of miles away from me, not knowing where I am or if something's happened to me, or if I'll ever come back… Oh god. I hope she's okay. Lord, I **_need_** her to be okay. If she's not, I'll… I'll break down. I just couldn't handle it. She's all I've got left.

   Sigh.

   I'm losing it. I know I am. I'm even having trouble believing my own memories. I couldn't have really attacked those sweepers, could I have? No, not Broots. Not timid, scurrying, insignificant-underling Broots. I cower when someone's being threatened, I don't pounce on them and try to gouge out their eyes. 

    …Or do I?

   All I really remember from that night is Lyle showing up, me telling my daughter to run, and then… then what? Me going all Rambo on them? I've had fantasies about that, I won't lie. I've daydreamed of doing something manly or heroic, actually standing up to my tormentors instead of lowering my eyes and head. But to do that in real life? And in front of **_Lyle_**? Come on. That's a bit much, isn't it? There's only so much a guy can believe. 

   I look over at Lia (It took me nearly ten minutes to get just *that* much info on her), and give her a small smile. Her puzzled expression softens, but doesn't disappear. An unspoken question remains in her eyes, and so I answer it.

   "I'm just thinking."

   She nods in acknowledgement before returning her gaze to the window.

   This girl is a complete mystery to me. We tried to "talk", and managed to learn a **_little_** more about each other. I know that she's basically clueless as to why she's here (as far as she'd tell me, anyway), doesn't know where we're going, is thirteen, likes listening to music, and is an orphan.

   It's like meeting Elf 17 all over again.

   There is no doubt in my mind that she's Astrea's sister, and when I found out about Lia's parents, it was one of the most horribly painful things that I'd ever heard (no pun intended). Astrea is truly an orphan now. She'll die without ever knowing who brought her into this world, and worst of all, she still thinks that they're out there, somewhere. Even Jarod has a father. It's going to crush Astrea's heart when she finds out.

   And then there's the whole thing about her sister, who she doesn't even know about because I was too stupid to remember it and tell her.

   Again, sigh.

   At the sound of someone approaching, both Lia and I are shaken from our musings. The curtain that separates our seating area is pulled back, and in walks one of the last people I'd expected (or have liked) to see on this plane.

   Mr. Cox.

   "Ah, you're both up and awake. Good. That makes things so much easier."

   Lia's eyes (that had narrowed to slits upon seeing the Triumvirate agent) clearly convey her rage at seeing him again. Apparently she's met him. Can't say I blame her for her reaction, then.

   He simply gives her a suave smile and signs something that makes her try to jump out of her seat at him. After a dry chuckle at the product of his provocation, he takes a seat on the arm of a chair directly across from me. He crosses his arms, leans back a bit, and then stares at me.

   Confused, I look around me before returning to his gaze.

   "So," he says finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Mr. Broots, is it?"

   I nod, though I'm pretty sure that he already knows who I am.

   "You caused quite a stir last night among the sweepers. Many of them were talking of murdering you in your sleep, and I'm pretty sure that you don't want to **_know_** what Mr. **_Lyle_** was talking of doing to you," he says with a chuckle.

   Gulp. There goes any thought of my Rambo behavior being a dream.

   Cox grows serious again. "Now then, I take it you still don't know what you're here for?"

   I clear my throat, before responding shakily, "nope. I'm still, uh, still pretty lost."

   "That's to be expected," he says with a nod. "But I'll fill you in with as much as I think you need to know."

    While he collects his thoughts I glance over at Lia, and see that she's turned (as much as her bindings will allow) away from Mr. Cox. She obviously has a deep loathing for this guy. Either that, or she senses the true man behind his clever façade. If it's the latter, then she's an **_excellent_** judge of character.

   "Well," Cox begins, finally ready to give me an explanation, "I suppose I'll start with the obvious. You are here to do a job for the Centre. Dr. Raines is overseeing a special project, which, if I am to understand, you have encrypted the data on, and we've recently been having a spot of trouble progressing. There appears to be a problem with the programming, and the technicians we have stationed there have not been able to find out what is amiss. Therefore, it was decided that an extra pair of hands would be a amelioration."

   "Amelior-what?"

   "Amelioration," Cox reiterates. "In more basic terms, an improvement."

   I deadpan. "Your technicians are having major trouble with the code to a complex program, and to fix it you brought one more guy?"

   On the far left Lia gives a light snort of amusement.

   For a brief moment I see a spark of anger in Mr. Cox's eyes, and I shirk back in my seat. I still haven't forgotten the wax statues Jarod made when he was trying to warn us about this guy, and the image of me about to get my head chopped off is hanging overhead ominously.

   "I've been away from the Centre for too long to remember how things are done there, Mr. Broots, but in the Triumvirate we do not tolerate insolence from our inferiors. I take it you grasp what I am trying to tell you?"

    I slowly nod my head.

    "Good. Communication is only truly effective when both parties reach an understanding. Now," he stands up, his hands going into his pockets, "I've told you why you're here. I think that it's time you told me what happened last night."

   I resist the urge to raise my eyebrows in complete and utter confusion. **_I'm_** still not sure what happened last night. And even if I was, what makes him think that I'd tell him about it? He's a member of the Triumvirate, for Christ's sake! I've dug a deep enough hole for myself already, why fill it with quicksand?

   "Well?" he asks again, a single eyebrow showing that he's awaiting a reply.

   "Lyle threatened my daughter," I finally manage to say, though it comes out a bit more shakily than I'd originally intended. "I…I won't let anyone hurt her."

   Cox studies me for a moment, judging my sincerity, and then nods. "Very well. It is as I expected. Mr. Parker's son is notorious for his…'interests', even in the Triumvirate, and if you were merely protecting your daughter then you will not be held accountable for your actions."

   My eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Was I just tried for something? And did I just get off? 

   "However," Mr. Cox continues, looking me straight in the eye, "I'd advise you not to go against Centre orders in the future. It could prove to be hazardous to your health."

   Now's the time that I should come back with a witty retort, or shake off this whole incident with a care-free laugh.

   "O-okay."

   Sigh. Courage is still not my strong point.

   Cox stands, and inclines his head in a nod of acknowledgement. "Good day, Mr. Broots. I will go and explain the circumstances of your little 'outburst' to Dr. Raines, and try to see to it that your bonds are removed."

   I watch him go, and once he's finally out of sight I slump back in my seat with relief. Lia glances over at me momentarily, more questions in her emerald green eyes as to what that conversation was about. I simply look over at her wearily, and she realizes how worn out I am mentally and emotionally. She goes back to staring out the window.

   And I think once more of my daughter, and how she's doing, before trying to get comfortable enough to sleep.

8:10 am, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Ms. Parker's Home

(**Sydney**)

Would that I could sigh with enough might to bring mountains to their knees. With all that is happening, I'm sure that it would be an excellent way to release all of the anxiety that is eating away at me. 

   Ms. Parker moved the "party" over to her home around half an hour ago. An hour after Debbie had fallen asleep (an hour during which we discussed the current situation), it was decided that her house was not the ideal place to calm the girl down and slowly coax her back to into being able to relax. Even in the deepest stages of her slumber she's been heavily immersed in wild and fervent dreams…or nightmares. The REM (rapid eye movement) behind her lids told us easily that her rest was not a peaceful one. The girl is carrying more worries than any of us right now, and my heart pains me to see her like this.

    I'm actually still a bit surprised that Ms. Parker suggested bringing the girl to her home. I know I shouldn't be. Ms. Parker is not a statue of stone, no matter how painstakingly she creates that mask. I shouldn't have to question her humanity. Ah, but I do. Nearly every day, I'm afraid. For if she truly is so kind, if underneath her years of Centre training there is still a pure and wholesome soul in that coldly beautiful body, then why does she still hunt him? She let Jarod go the last time; would she do it again? What reason could she possibly have to continue to track that innocent man down, and if she truly has not changed, why then is she suddenly so charitable towards Debbie?  It is as though she has two distinct personalities wrestling for control, and one will manage to get the other into a headlock before it is flipped onto its back and forced into submission by the other side.

   I reflect back upon my thoughts with an amused chuckle.

   Even now, with all that's going on, it seems that I can't abandon the role of the psychiatrist.

   My nose twitches and then wrinkles at the faint but clearly recognizable smell of tobacco. I get up from the armchair that I was relaxing in, push open the screen door leading to the front of the house, and step out onto the porch. Ms. Parker is sitting on her bench, her arms folded against the world and the cold as she takes long drags from a cigarette. I move to stand before the "ice queen" and look down at her admonishingly.

    "I thought you'd quit, Parker."

   She takes another drag, blowing out the smoke in a slow, deliberate manner before saying, "and I'd thought that you'd promised to try and stay out of my personal life, Syd."

   "I promised no such thing," I say softly. "And the only reason I pry is because I'm the only one who will. It's healthy to talk about things with others, like you used to talk about things with me."

    She narrows her eyes. "Freud, these **_cigarettes_** are healthier than my talks with you."

    Her cold remark stings me, and I find myself bristling with anger and hurt. Fine. If she wants to act like a child, then I shall treat her like one. Before she can react I snatch the still-burning cigarette from her fingers and throw it to the ground. Then, with a small amount of pleasure, I grind it into the pavement with my shoe. She looks up at me, appalled.

   I give her a steady and stony gaze. "You are not the only one worried about Broots, Parker, and it's time you realized that."

   "I know that," she hisses, clearly angry. "What does that have to do with anything?"

   I stare down at her pointedly. "Everything. That's why you were smoking, wasn't it? You needed a stress reliever and drinking alcohol would be far too obvious."

   She stands up, bubbling over with rage at my too-true accusations. "Why don't you just **_back off_**, Freud?"

   "I'm not going to let you harm yourself."

   "They're just cigarettes."

   "This is about far more than a simple addiction, Parker!"

   She gapes in shock at my uncharacteristic yell. I quickly become ashamed at raising my voice so loudly, and soften it.

   "Parker, Broots is gone, his daughter is shaken, and neither of us knows what to do."

   "Tell me something I **_don't_** know," she says, rolling her eyes. "What's your point?"

   I take deep and silent breath. "My point is that while neither of us know what to do, you and I both know someone who might."

    "Oh **_hell_** no," she says angrily, quickly turning and entering her home.

    I jog in after her and follow her into the kitchen. "Parker, think about it! Jarod knows better than either of us how to retrieve information from the Centre, and he may know a way to find out where Broots has gone and why."

   She whirls on me, clenching her fists. "No. Not this time. I'm tired of begging for help from that twisted lab experiment every time we get stuck on a question."

   "Jarod is not a lab experiment, and he is perhaps the best chance we have at solving this. If we could somehow contact him…"

    "And say what?" she glares at me. "Ask him to help us? Tell him it's important?"

    "Yes!" I lightly pound my fist on the counter for emphasis. "That is precisely what we'd say. Jarod has helped us many times before, and he would help. I know he would."

   "You know him less than you think, Freud," she criticizes.

   I stiffen. Another hit too close to home. I find myself irrationally wanting to insult her, or storm out in a rage. But, while she usually may be able to use that scythe-like tongue to cut men to their knees, I am a psychiatrist, and that is more than enough armor to use against her verbal assaults.

   "Parker, now is not the time to attempt to drown me in a lake of guilt for the actions and decisions I made when I was younger. I have done that enough over the past few years for the both of us. What it **_is_** time for, is for you to let go of your irrational behavior where Jarod is concerned, swallow your admirable but stubborn pride, and ask him for help."

   For a moment she just glowers at me, quivering with suppressed ire. I have done nothing but speak truth, and sometimes the truth can be a deadly weapon. Ms. Parker holds my fixed stare, and then the fight seems to leave her. Like a popped balloon she visibly deflates, the stress lines on her face becoming more profound and a haggard look in her eyes aging her at least ten years.

   "All right," she whispers, "hold on."

   She walks past me to the stairs in the living room, and goes up. 

   I watch her with more than a little shock. She shouldn't have given up that easily. It is almost as though her spirit has broken, and the façade that she's worn to hide it took too much power to keep up. I know that these past few days have taken a toll on her, but to have this drastic an effect… Either I haven't been paying enough attention, or her mask is better constructed than I'd thought. Knowing me, though, it is probably the former.

   She descends the stairs a minute later, holding a small, aged slip of paper in her hands. I stare at it in curiosity, and she holds my gaze, a haunted look in her eyes.

    "Jarod has always sent me stuff, Syd," she explains quietly. "And one year, on the anniversary of my mother's death, he sent me a card with his cell phone number in it, should I ever… should I ever need to talk to him."

   Without waiting for a comment from me (which is probably for the best as she'd most likely be waiting a very, very long time) she takes out her cell and prepares to dial, but then pauses and gazes up at me in question.

   "What should I say?"

   I give her a warm, sensitive smile. 

   "Whatever you need to, Parker."

8:47 pm, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Holiday Inn

Rm. 109

(**Jarod**)

I chuckle softly as I watch one of my favorite actors-- Bugs Bunny --trick the Tasmanian devil into eating a stick of dynamite. Astrea gives me a look over from where she's playing Arthur at chess, but more or less leaves me to my own devices. Just as she has her need to go out at night, I have my need to laugh at senseless entertainment. Especially when that senseless entertainment is so darn funny.

   Then, unexpectedly interrupting Bugs' timeless line, "What's up, doc?" I hear the instantly recognizable sound of a cell phone ringing. 

   **_My_** cell phone.

   Both Astrea and I exchange nervous looks, knowing that no one should have my number. Apprehensively, I click off the television and pick up the impatiently ringing cell. I look down at my caller ID, and the name I see there causes me to turn on the phone so fast that the motion is a blur.

   "Ms. Parker?" I whisper, my throat suddenly hoarse.

   Silence.

   "Ms. Parker?" I ask again, becoming worried. "Are you there?"

   There's another moment of stillness, but then I hear a harsh sigh. "Yeah, Lab Rat. I'm here."

   Despite the insulting nickname that I have learned to grow numb to, my heart swells at the sound of her voice. She didn't throw it away. After all these years she's still kept the card, and the number inside of it.

   "You kept it," I say with joy, unable to keep it back. 

   "Yeah. Look, Jarod, there's a problem that, as usual, it seems only **_you_** can solve."

   I sit down on my bed. "What kind of problem? We're having one of our own at the moment."

   Astrea is listening with rapt attention, her sensitive ears probably picking up both sides of conversation. Arthur seems to not have noticed what is going on, and is ignoring my dialogue as he desperately tries to get out of the 'check' that Astrea has put his king into.

   I can almost hear as the woman on the other line runs a hand through her hair, and easily imagine that she's pacing. "Jarod, I know you and that… that 'girl' are trying to figure out something, I heard about the Centre break-in, but Syd needs your help with something."

   " 'Syd needs'? "

   "All right, **_we_** need. Some time last night Broots and his daughter received a visit from Lyle."

   I feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me, and hear Astrea's snarl. I quickly glance over at her, relieved that she hasn't lost control. She seems to be suppressing her "transformation", but is obviously fighting hard to keep it that way.

   "What happened?" I ask.

   "We're not really sure at this point. All we could get from Debbie is that Lyle either insinuated that he was going to do something to her, or he threatened her-- we're not sure which. Then, supposedly, Broots attacked him."

   "Broots **_what_**?" 

   "He attacked him. We were just as surprised when we found out. So, like I was saying, Broots attacked him, there was a struggle, and the next thing Debbie knew, Lyle and the sweepers were driving away and her father was gone."

   I mull over this shocking information in silence. There are dozens of possibilities of what could have happened to the loveable technician, and I don't find any of them particularly appealing. He's been having a rough week, that's for sure.

   "So you'd like me to find him." I don't add on the "if he's still alive", but I can sense that both of us know what I mean.

   "Yes," she admits rather grudgingly. "We need you to find him."

   "I'll have to think about this, you know. I wouldn't be the only one involved if I decided to help you."

    "I know that," she hisses in frustration. "But we don't have much time. For all I know, we might not have any."

    "I'm taking that into consideration. Astrea and I-" my eyes widen as I realize what I just said, and before my highly intellectual mind can quickly come up with a way to backpedal over my slip-up, Ms. Parker calls me on my mistake.

   " 'Astrea'?' " She asks with curiosity and a touch of smugness. "Who is 'Astrea', Jarod?"

   Feeling a spark of anger I growl into the phone, "look, do you want my help or not?"

   "Yes," she responds in an equally livid tone.

   "Then let me do my job." I feel bad for speaking to her like this (which I secretly know is absurd) but decide that now isn't the time to be apologizing. "I'll look up whatever information I can, and when I've either found something or found the absence of something, I'll call you."

   "Fine," she says, still fuming at my previous manner, and then hangs up on me.

   I put down my cell phone with a heavy, laden sigh, and massage my temple. Astrea comes and sits beside me on the bed, taking a deep breath.

   "So… we have a decision to make."

   "Yep."

   "We can either find out what happened to Broots, look up a way to cure my 'illness', or draw up a plan to save my sister." 

   "Those do seem to be the only options," I admit.

   She muses on something for a moment. "Do you want to solve this the usual way?"

   I shrug slightly, too weary to come up with anything else at the moment. "Sure."

   Astrea stands and walks over to the closet, and then stops momentarily to move one of her pieces on the chessboard.

   "Checkmate."

    While Arthur stares in disbelief at the configuration on the board, she continues her path to the closet, unzips my backpack, and pulls out one of the items inside.

   I sit up straighter and she hands me the object.

   "Make it count."

   I nod solemnly. "I will."

   There's a moment of great anticipation as I hold up the item almost reverently, and give it a slight shake.

   "Is it best for Astrea and I to drop everything we're doing, take the advice of my childhood-crush-turned-mortal-enemy, and find out what's happened to Broots?"

    I groan and lay back on the bed as I receive the Magic 8-Ball's simple answer.

    _'The way I see it, yes'_

************************************************************************************

**                                                               Review Returns:**

   Earthdrago: Yeah, I know what you mean about finding out an author isn't finished yet. Sorry. Hopefully I'll be able to update quickly enough for you. Thanks for the many reviews, and maybe I WILL bring back Shadow Elf, the Bard. Hrm…

   Rem-Cycle: Somehow there are two reviews for the last chapter so, uh…. I suppose I'll answer both. Yep, they ARE going to be checking on "Project Location", and I'm absurdly pleased that I've been able to keep you clueless as to what's happening next. I just **_love _**surprises… And as to your last review, your first line scared me. I was certain that I was going to receive an ugly and lethal flame. Instead, I received a kind nudge (or shove, depending on your point of view) to update faster. And, if I may say so, it certainly motivated me. Thanks!

   Pretender Fanatic: Four times a day? *chuckle*** **Well, it might be considered obsessive if it was **_five_ **times a day, but if it's only four… Anywho, thanks for the review! (Hey, that rhymed! I'm a poet and I didn't know it!)

   Trivnbugs: Yes, this story is still alive (though it may not seem that way sometimes). The reason that the Centre let Broots sit back with Lia is because they don't (even after what's happened) take him seriously, and since Lia is mute, they don't believe that they could communicate anyways. Thanks for the review and compliments! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

   Onisius: Will Broots become protective of her? Hrm… maybe, maybe… My characters seem to have a life of their own, and it's really up to them, Lol. Thanks and I hope you liked it!


	16. It's Getting Hot In Here

**Disclaimer:** This is the forty-seventh time that I've had to do this. (I'm not lying-- I counted.) So, here it is, number forty-seven. *Ahem* …I don't own it. [Bows as cheering audience throws up roses to profess their admiration.]

**Rating:** Dippity Skippidy Zippity Do.

**Summary:** Things heat up. Like, REALLY hot. I'm talking walking-barefoot-on-a-bridge-of-hot-coals-over-a-river-of-lava-in-**_hell_**, hot.

**Feedback:** I'd really, really, really, really, really, really, really, **really** appreciate it. Thanks!

**TO RECAP (Because I need to.) :** Jarod and Astrea teamed together with the chess-loving, quirky English guy Arthur to find a cure for Astrea's "illness". Astrea's mute sister Lia (who Astrea now knows exists thanks to a security camera video) was captured and taken to the Centre. Lyle, who is involved in some mysterious project with Raines and COX, of all people, forcibly took Broots from his home on Christmas Eve. Broots awoke on a Centre jet flying to an unknown location and has been seated with Lia. Debbie saw her father taken, and called Miss Parker and Sydney. They came over, tried to find out what happened to Broots, ran into a brick wall, and called Jarod for help. Jarod agreed to try and find something on what's going on, and that is where this continuation to our story begins…

**Quote:** **"We are Microsoft. Resistance is Futile. You WILL be Assimilated." **

---_Bumper Sticker_

     (This doesn't relate to the chapter at all, but I found it and think that it's frickin' hilarious.)

**************************************_ShadowElfBard_************************************

10:06 am, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Holiday Inn

Rm. 109

(**Astrea**)

   I'm trying to be positive, I really am. But one can only look to the bright side if there's one to begin with. I have so much that I need to take care of, so many things going wrong, that I'm being crushed by the weight. My illness, my sister, Broots… And then there are separate categories under those. For example, with my illness I need to find out what chemical was used, how fast it's progressing, why the counter-agent wasn't administered, what the counter agent is… the list goes on. And it's like that for every one! I can't even **_begin_** to decide which one takes priority, and we can't just use the Magic 8-ball every time.

   I sigh and glance over at Jarod, who is busily typing away on the laptop, his brows knitted in concentration. He's working so hard. I know that the phone call must have really shaken him up. His relationship with Miss Parker has always been strained at best, and I'm not entirely sure what it is that they feel for each other. I know without a doubt that Jarod cares for her deeply, despite her actions over the years, but I have no clue whether or not those feelings are returned. I don't know the woman well enough, and the only time I ever really talked to her didn't end that well. Needless to say, any opinion I have of her is a little biased.

   "Have you found anything yet, Jarod?" I ask quietly.

   He's quiet for a moment, studying the electronic document on the screen, but he then gives a slow and hesitant nod that gradually became more resolute. "Actually… yeah. Yeah, I think I have."

   "Really?" I stand. "What is it?"

   "See for yourself."

   I do so, and frown a bit in confusion. Then, slowly, I find the key phrase in the otherwise useless document, and nod my head with a bitter smile.

   "Yeah, that's definitely something."

   I would be a bald-faced liar if I said that I was happy right now. Jarod has just discovered where Broots is heading… if he's alive and with Lyle, that is. And, presuming that this information is correct, Jarod and I both know what has to happen next if we're to keep his "promise" to Miss Parker.

   Jarod, watching the emotions flicker over my features, frowns. "You don't want to do this." It's a statement, not a question.

   "Should I?" I move away from him angrily. "I have a sister in the Centre, Jarod. Someone whose **_blood_** runs in my veins. Am I simply supposed to ignore that?"

   "That's true," he concedes with a nod. "It's also true that we still haven't found out how to cure your 'illness', and it's true that we have practically no preparation time to give to any of our current problems, and most importantly it's true that we have three ways to go, and each one of them requires our immediate attention."

   He gives me a purposeful look before finishing up his little monologue. "The only real question right now is which problem is most important."

   "And you're leaving it up to me to answer?" I give a laugh that sounds harsh even to my ears. "Those are some leadership skills you've developed, Jarod."

   "I'm not leaving it up to you," he says quietly.

   I narrow my eyes in quick suspicion. "Come again?"

   "I've made my choice, Astrea. I… well, you know my relationship with Miss Parker. I'm going to help her."

   "And where does that leave me?"

  "That's up to you. You decide what is more important, and you do what you think right."

   "You mean split up," I accuse. "I called you for help first, in case you've forgotten, and what we started is not yet finished."

   He shakes his head. "There's simply too much going on, Astrea. I've had to sort out my priorities--"

   "And I'm not important enough on your list," I finish softly.

   He freezes, and sees the hurt in my eyes. He sighs in frustration. "That's not what I meant."

   "Yes it is."

   We stare each other down, hearing nothing but the hum of the computer, and the faint and muffled sounds of the world outside our hotel window. I feel worn all of a sudden, the angry fire inside of me snuffed out. And, abruptly, I realize that Jarod feels the same way. Anybody could look at that weary, haggard face and easily realize just how tired he is. There are bags under his eyes and lines on his face that weren't there two days ago. Even his usually bright and dazzling brown eyes have lost their sparkle. I wonder what my own face looks like. Is my drained state as obvious?

   "Hello?"

   Both Jarod and I turn as Arthur enters, carrying what was to be our breakfast in a non-descript take-out bag.

   Arthur sets down the food on the table. "Is something going on?"

   "No, nothing," I answer quickly, my tone tired and devoid of any obvious emotion. "We were just… nothing. Nothing at all."

   I stride over to the door, picking up one of the breakfast bags as I walk by the table. "Come on. It's time we got going."

   Arthur, puzzled as usual, is the epitome of bafflement. "Go where?"

   I pause, halfway out the door, and then turn back slowly, my eyes locked on Jarod's as I answer.

   "We're going to visit an old friend. Someone that Jarod knows very well."

   "We are?" Arthur asks, incredulously.

   "Yes." The word comes out caustically, resentfully, and I scrunch up my features as though I've bitten into a rotted piece of fruit. "We have a message to deliver. Plans to make. Don't we, Jarod?"

   Jarod then seems to understand. He too looks as though he's eaten something vile and foul. Oh yes, he understands.

   We file out of the hotel room silently, our fast-food breakfast bags in hand, and head towards the car to pay a visit to Miss Parker.

10:27 am, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Parker Residence

(**Jarod**)

It was a dirty trick, I know, but I had to do it. Astrea would have backed me into a corner otherwise. I knew that she wouldn't, **_couldn't_** go alone, and I played upon that knowledge. Were I a boxer, I would have been booed out of the ring for using such a cheap and underhanded trick. If Astrea has any weaknesses, her biggest one is her need for companionship. I have a feeling that the worst punishment that could ever be devised for her would be complete and utter isolation.  She's a very social creature, and I feel like the lowest scum of the earth for using that against her.

   But it was, as the Centre would put it, a necessary evil.

   Miss Parker. God help me, but that woman does drive me insane. One minute I hate her, the next I pity her, and the next I can't live without her. She'll never know it, but her simply being alive is enough to rattle me sometimes. I am, whether I choose to admit it or not, her slave. If she's sad, I'm drowning in sorrow. If she's angry or frustrated, molten lava rages through my veins and sets my blood aflame. If she has one of those moments, one of those really rare moments where she's smiling and happy, I can die in peace without any regrets. How can anyone live like this? I am utterly subject to her moods and her whims, and I go to foolishly extravagant lengths to appease her. She's like some cruel and violent goddess whose fickle temperament can either bring about lengths of tranquility or seasons of devastation.

   And yet, despite all of this, here I am, standing like an idiot on her doorstep.

   I hear a growl off to my left and glance over. Astrea is standing rigid, her arms folded against more than the glacial temperature, and her eyes are narrowed with irritation and mistrust. I give her an apologetic look, and in return she hands me a large and ticked-off glare.

    Humph.

   "Well," she grounds out, "are you going to knock or what, Jarod?"

   I blink at her, still not used to having her anger directed at me. Usually she's so… kind. Sure she gets emotional, but I haven't seen such vehemence since our first meeting.  Really though, it's a wonder that her fury hasn't set the very **_snow_** on fire…

    She raises am eyebrow at me in an eerily Parker-ish way, and blinks― once again reminding me that we are still standing in the snow, and still freezing our butts off. Yet I can't seem to raise my hand to knock—and it's not because of the icy air, either.

    "P-p-perhaps Astrea has a p-p-point, J-Jarod," Arthur stutters out, more quaking than shivering in his thin, brown coat and black scarf.

    I suppress a sigh, and nod my head, getting the point. It's now or never. I rap upon the wood of the door and hear Astrea's muttered "Finally!" when the locks on the other side are undone.

   Sydney steps out and greets us, his large and friendly smile already in place, and he barely twitches when he sees Arthur, though I do spot the curiosity that enters his eyes. Psychiatrists are as close to pretenders as I think any one person can come, and Sydney's one of the best.

  He ushers us in and out of the cold, firmly closing the door behind us. When he offers to take our coats Arthur and I hand them over, but Astrea firmly (and yet politely) declines.

    It's been a long time since I've entered Miss Parker's habitat (invited, that is) and I amiably take in the simple, stylish décor of the home. Every placement, picture, statue and furnishing proudly tells me who lives here. This abode is infused with the very spirit of my rival, and sorrowfully I realize that the spirit is a cold and austere one.

   "Jarod."

Perspective Change

(**Astrea**)

   "Miss Parker," returns Jarod coolly.

    I roll my eyes, irritated, and then point to myself. "Astrea. Arthur. Sydney. Great, now that the Oh-So-Dramatic intros are over, can we start discussing business?"

   All eight eyes in the room blink in chorus at my abrupt and rude attitude.

   Miss Parker does her signature eyebrow-raise, attempting to look indifferent and succeeding with flying colors. "Does Zoo Girl have PMS or is this only on Sundays?"

   I feel the steady rumble of an irate growl lodged deep in my throat, and from Jarod's slightly worried look, I can tell that he's able to hear it. Miss Parker simply folds her arms, unconcerned, and both Sydney and Arthur look as though they are attempting not to have heard my rather feral response.

   Jarod clears his throat. "And on that cheery note…" he reaches into his coat pocket and extracts a folded piece of paper. "I was able to find some information that would be considered particularly helpful, but that seems to bring up some…er… issues."

   "Like?" Miss Parker snaps crossly. Suddenly, she turns to Arthur. "And just **_who_** the hell are you?"

   Arthur nearly jumps in surprise at the unexpected acknowledgement of his presence. "Me? I'm, uh, I'm Arthur. Arthur Norman. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

   She glances down in distaste at the hand he's offered, and curls her lip. "The pleasure's all yours."

   Arthur lowers his hand with confusion and mild dejection, and then stuffs the rejected limb into his pocket uncomfortably.

   Sydney mutters something irritably about a certain someone's social skills, and before the object of his annoyance is able to request a louder repeat, a new voice enters our merry little conversation.

   "Um…Miss Parker? Who are these people?"

   A girl about my age is standing by the railing of the stairs, gazing down at us in uncertainty.

   The director's daughter clenches her fist and whirls on Jarod. "Just perfect, Wonder-Boy. You've woken Debbie."

   Debbie? This must be Broots' daughter!

   Debbie shakes her head and comes down. "No, it's okay. I wasn't really sleeping anyways."

   I watch this newcomer with curiosity, unable to keep a small smile from my lips. She's a beautiful young girl, and, from what I've been able to see, polite as well. She's got her father's chestnut colored hair, and his friendly brown-green eyes. She is undoubtedly related to my dear friend, and the thought helps to pacify my previous anger.

   "Hello again, Debbie," Jarod greets with a grin.

    She pinches her lips. "Do I know you?"

   "Well, we haven't been formally introduced but, uh, your father has… your father has mentioned you."

   Sydney takes on the role of the mediator. "Debbie, this is Jarod."

   Her eyes widen. "**_You're_** Jarod?"

   Though confused, he gives a hesitant smile. "Yes. Have you…erm, heard of me?"

   "Uh huh!" she says, nodding vigorously. "You're the Centre's pretender!"

   A deathly silence takes the room, and only after the first few seconds go by does Debbie realize what it is that she's exclaimed so casually.

   Mortified, she raises a hand to her mouth. "Oh… I'm sorry, that must have sounded… I'm just so…. Really, I didn't…"

   "It's okay," Jarod finally says, and though the others may not catch it, his reassurance seems forced. "No harm done. I'm just surprised that you know of me."

   Still abashed, Debbie just nods and bites her lip.

   Miss Parker's clipped voice provides an explanation. "Long story short, Debbie is handy with a computer. Now, we have business, don't we?"

   Jarod makes a sound of acknowledgement. "Yes, I suppose we do. Where do you want to…?"

   "Living room is fine, just take off your shoes. God only knows what's under them." Miss Parker looks over at Arthur. "Do you know how to play chess?"

   He reacts faster this time. "Oh, yes. I do enjoy a good game of chess every now and—"

   "Fine. Debbie, this is 'Arthur, Arthur Norman'. He's going to play you at chess. You can get the board from upstairs and the two of you can set up in the kitchen."

   Before either of them can object, she raises a hand. "Don't. Just don't. I'm sorry to be harsh, Debbie, but this week has been nothing but hell."

   Broots' daughter seems to understand, and though she doesn't look happy about it, she bites her back her protests and nods. They both leave, and Miss Parker heads to a reclining chair in the living room, not even looking back to see if we're following.

   Once we've all gotten situated-- Sydney on the couch next to Jarod, and myself standing up against the wall with my arms crossed-- Miss Parker leans back and crosses her legs, her finely manicured nails drumming impatiently on the arm of her chair. And, as the silence goes on, I realize with a bitter sigh that it's going to be a long, hard, uphill climb until this issue is resolved.

Perspective Change

(**Miss Parker**)

   "You said you had news, and you seem too much of a Boy Scout to lie," I state to Jarod flatly, vexed.

   "You flatter me," he returns.

   "Believe me, it's not intentional. Now, what the hell did you find? And don't beat around the proverbial bush-- I don't want to have to throttle you for a straight answer."

   Zoo-girl seems to object to this idea, if the way she's growling at me is any indication. I knew from the moment she walked in that the girl and I were going to have problems, no matter the temporary truce we might have formed in the sub-levels. The fact still remains that she's a screwed up experiment, and a potential danger. And, to tell the honest in-your-face truth, I **_would_** bring her back to the Centre if I had the chance. I reluctantly admit the fact that I'm not sure about Jarod, there's still too much there to think about, but if she was in cuffs and I had a sweeper, she'd be back at the Centre before you could say Jack Robinson.

   "Astrea," Jarod almost hisses at her, pleading with his eyes for her to stop.

   She stares him down for a long time, but finally concedes and moves her gaze to the floor.

   Satisfied and relieved, Jarod hands Sydney the piece of paper he'd extracted earlier. "After a few hours of unsuccessful searching through the Centre's mainframe, I was able to find this."

   Sydney looks over at his prodigy in confusion. "I don't understand, Jarod. This is simply a list of employees going on temporary leave."

   Jarod nods and points at something on the page. "True, but look who made the list."

   Sydney follows Jarod's finger, and his eyes widen in surprise. "Oh my."

   I clench the sides of my chair in frustration. "Skip the dramatics, Freud. What's on the paper?"

   "Well, Lyle for one."

   Though others might have experienced it, I'm not surprised. For someone who has heard three or more different versions of how their mother died, discovered family members who were once hated enemies, and seen two or more people come back from the dead, knowing that my brother's name is on a sheet of paper is nothing special. And with a raised eyebrow, I tell them this.

   "Okay, so Lyle the Psychos' name is on a piece of paper. Whoop-de-do. I'm having trouble seeing the importance here, Jarod."

   "It wouldn't be important," he starts, "if the paper weren't a notice of leave written by a very rushed Lyle who left for India about, oh…" he looks at his watch. "Eight hours and forty three minutes ago."

Perspective Change

(**Arthur**)

   "Your move," I point out rather jovially, knowing that she's about to fall into my trap.

   She stares down at the board, mentally calculating her options. Her fingers rest slightly on her remaining knight, but her eyes flicker over to one of the bishops. She seems to come to a decision, and then, with a slight smirk, advances her pawn directly into the path of my rook.

   My jaw drops, wondering how she was able to entirely demolish my subtle and carefully laid trap with a single move. Bullocks. Perhaps my chess glory days are coming to an end.

   Wait a tick… did I even **_have_** chess glory days?

   "Your move," Debbie says with a malevolent grin, throwing my words back at me.

   I fold my arms and quirk my mouth, contemplating what move I should make to regain the offensive. To put your opponent on the defensive, is, perhaps, one of the most common moves in chess, but it is also one of the most effective.

   _Aha_, I think to myself with a sly smile. _You might just find a way out of this yet, Arthur old boy._

   And with a rather large amount of satisfaction, I move my head pawn diagonally and take out her remaining knight, putting her king in check.

   She winces at the loss of her rider, but quickly moves her king out of harms way… or so she thinks. Because in the next moment, filled with elation, I boldly pick up my queen, set it down directly across from her king, and Bob's your uncle, I've won.

   She sighs and gently knocks her ruler to the ground in defeat, and I resist the urge to do what Americans would call a "victory dance".

   "A jolly good game, Debbie," I tell the girl, holding out my hand. "Very well played."

  "Thanks," she says, shaking hands with me. "You're really good at it."

   I smile at her words, and start resetting the board. "So, are you up for another game?"

   "No," she says quietly, shaking her head.

   I pause in my movements, and look over at her in confusion. " 'No'? But your were doing so **_well_**…"

   "It's not that I don't enjoy playing with you, Mr. Arthur. I really do like having someone to play against, but it's just that I'm… I'm worried about my father. And they're talking about him in the living room, deciding what to do, and I'm out in the kitchen playing chess. I want to **_do_** something; help in someway. Isn't that fair?"

   Uh oh. Dangerous ground. "Of course that's fair, young lady. I understand completely. The only problem is that you're… um… just a tad too young, I'm afraid."

   Hurt enters her eyes and she stands up angrily. "I'm not a little kid, I'm nearly fifteen now! I help around the house, I sometimes walk the four blocks to the grocery store and pick up food, I can stay up after my father goes to bed not have to sleep until ten-thirty, and I should be able to help find him!"

   "I never said that you were immature or without responsibilities," I tell her soothingly, hoping I don't sound too much like a parent. I recall what Astrea told me about what happened last night, and use the information to my advantage. "It's just that your father was… taken, and fought to protect you. What sense would it make to ignore his sacrifice and put you in danger again?"

    Though she is still quite upset, I can see that my words have reached her. She hangs her head. "I just really miss him… and I don't like feeling this helpless."

   Cautiously, I reach out my hand to hers, and pat it gently. "I understand. No one likes to feel as though they've lost control, but we must never act irrationally."

   She nods.

  "Now then," I say, eager to put this awkward little moment behind me, "are you going to be black or white this time around?"

Perspective Change

(**Sydney**)

   "Well this is just **_great_**, isn't it? F---ing fantastic."

   I silently sigh through my nostrils as I watch Miss Parker pace the floor, her hands on her hips and her eyes burning with fury. She has Jarod's piece of paper clenched in one fist (she'd snatched it from him to see for herself) and it is obviously the root cause of her present distress.

   She stops suddenly—turns to Jarod. "So, Wonder Boy, what now? Lyle's in India, Broots might be with him… I'm going to go for the best case scenario and assume that you came over here with a plan in mind."

   My protégé stands up, rising to meet her challenge. "You assumed right. But, unfortunately, the only plan I have is not going to be to your liking."

   "None of this is to my **_liking_**, Jarod, but I don't really have a choice in the mater, now do I?"

   "True," he says with a nod. "Alright, my plan is this, pure and simple… we go after them."

   "'Go after them'?" The pretender girl repeats in incredulity, leaving her position at the wall and walking towards Jarod. "They have an eight-hour advantage on us. To make any difference at all we'd have to leave within the next two hours, and even if we got there in record time (assuming we know where they even **_are_**) what is us traveling there going to accomplish? Are we going to kidnap Broots back, is that it?"

   Jarod shrugs. "Basically."

   For a moment she seems too shocked to move, but then she looses a few, harsh, dry laughs. "No wonder you have a psychiatrist, Jarod—you're completely insane."

   "For once, I agree with Zoo Girl," Miss Parker says, a smirk on her face.

   "Jarod," the feral pretender continues, ignoring Parker, "even if we were to successfully kidnap Broots back, his life would never be the same again. The Centre isn't stupid, though you sometimes make them seem so. They would wonder why the very pretender that they're after would go to all that trouble to rescue him, would assume that he's been helping you in some way or that he means something to you, and would then lock him up in the Tower and either use him to get to you or simply kill him." Her eyes narrow dangerously. "I will not allow that to happen."

   "Now hold on a minute," Jarod says, holding up a hand. "I wasn't suggesting that we actually **_kidnap_** Broots back. I only used it for lack of a better word. What I actually mean to do is set it up to look like the director ordered his return to the pursuit team, using a fake document as proof and Miss Parker's presence as evidence."

   "What?!"

   "You're joking," Parker says in disbelief. "You actually expect me to go with you and your little 'Elf 17' to Ind—"

   Her move is so fast and unexpected that it seems as though she's broken through the barriers of time itself. One second Miss Parker is talking, and the next the room has gone deathly quiet—all eyes on the feral pretender who is nose to nose with the director's daughter, and baring her teeth in unbridled fury. Jarod is momentarily stunned and I almost jump out of my seat, but to Miss Parker's credit, besides a fleeting pass of fear and surprise over her normally flawless features, she doesn't bat a brow.

   "My name," the feral pretender hisses slowly with a toxic snarl, "is ASTREA. Elf 17 is **_dead_**."

   "You will be too in a second if you don't get out of my face," Parker retaliates with a sneer.

   "I'd have you on the floor with your throat ripped out before you could even get your finger on the trigger."

   Miss Parker forces an almost smile on her face. "You can slap a new name on sh-t but in the end it's still **_crap." _**

****"THAT'S **_IT_**!"

   Jarod has pushed himself between the two women (which is probably no easy feat) and he looks from one to the other angrily.  
   "I didn't come over here to watch two people threaten to kill one another while an innocent girl is forced to wonder whether or not her father is even **_alive_**. Yes, my plan does involve us traveling to India; yes, Miss Parker is a key part of this plan; and yes, we'd have to leave as soon as possible. But, contrary to what appears to be the popular belief, what is not a part of my plan is wasting time with petty arguments while our enemies become that much closer to achieving whatever depraved goal it is that they have in mind."

   All is quiet. Jarod looks from one woman to the other, and steps back. Astrea, (what Elf 17's name has apparently been changed to) curls her lip at Miss Parker, glares at Jarod, and then, as swiftly and silently as a shadow, glides out of the room and out the front door. Parker watches her go, and then turns back to us and folds her arms.

   "Your visits are always a pleasure, Jarod," she says with a mocking tone. Then she sighs. "Alright. I don't know why, but I'll go with you. What do Syd and I have to pack?"

   Jarod and I exchange glances.

   "Miss Parker," I start softly, "…I'm afraid I won't be accompanying you." 

   "Knock it off, Sydney, I'm in no mood for pranks."

   "When have you ever known me to pull a prank, Parker?"

   "But you can't just not come," she grounds out, pleading.

   "I'm old, Parker. I don't like to admit it, but that doesn't make it any less true."

   "That's never stopped you before," she accuses. This is hurting her so much. I've always known how I fill in the role of her father figure, and that attachment is evident in her eyes. 

   "I've never had to fly halfway across the world before, either, Parker. I'm simply not up to it, and Debbie also needs someone to look after her. Besides, of what use would I be? No," I reaffirm, shaking my head, "I can not come. I'm sorry."

   "Not as sorry as I am," Parker replies quietly, once more becoming as hard as stone and as cold as ice. She turns and heads to the stairs. "I'm going to go pack, Jarod. If this is as urgent as you say it is, I expect you, the Englishman, and Zoo Bitch back in an hour with your purses packed and your teddy bears in hand."

   "Well," Jarod says with a sigh once she's disappeared from view, slowly sinking into an armchair, "that could have gone better."

************************************************************************************

YAHOO, IT'S FINISHED!!! Of course, I apologize profusely for the **_ridiculous_** amount of time it took me to update, but you wouldn't believe what's been happening to my computer over the past couple of MONTHS. Hopefully everything will be getting back on track now, and I hope that you guys will forgive me and review. Thanks!

**Review Returns:**

****

**   Pretender Fanatic:** Hey, pretender fanatic, my old pal. (Okay, so maybe not _that _old.) I was really surprised to hear that you like my character Astrea so much. Most people tend to hate the new characters added to fan fiction, but, then again, you're certainly not common! ;-D

**   Rem-Cycle:** …You really think that I have all of that in my story? Wow… And yes, Broots IS a genius!!!  (If you haven't already guessed, he's my favorite character and I hate how few stories there are on him.) I'm glad that you think I did a good job on writing Sydney's character—I certainly tried hard enough to get it down. Again, I'm pleasantly surprised that you think I'm writing so well, and I'll try and have less time between updates.

**   Earthdrago:** Thank you soooo much for your generous compliments. I don't really know that I'm that great a writer, but I of course appreciate being told that I am! And, sorry about the cliffhangers, but I just can't seem to get enough of them! ;-D

**   Ann:** Thanks for the compliments-- they're great as ever! And, yep, the troublemakers have it made in the back (I should know). Glad that you're enjoying this, thanks for the review!

**   Onisius:** Broots and Mr. Cox have met? I didn't know that! What happened? And, yeah, I thought the Magic 8-Ball was a cute touch. ;-) 


	17. The Journey Of A Million Miles

**Disclaimer:** Saying that I owned this would be like saying that this year's presidential candidates are intelligent human beings… In other words, I'd be lying.

**Rating:** I don't know anymore. My word usage seems to be changing with my school grades. But, as it stands, I'm going to say PG-13

**Summary:** The ill-fated trip is begun, and the travelers are in for the ride of their lives.

**!!!AUTHOR"S NOTE!!!**** For what is to happen next in my story, I find it vital to return to the third-person perspective. I apologize to those of you who have been enjoying the first-person narrative, but I assure you that the coming episodes will not ALL be entirely third person. That being said, I thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**Feedback:** The air I breathe and the water I drink.

**Quote:**

**"…the fog is rising."** ****

---_Last Words of Emily Dickinson_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_ShadowElfBard_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

12:19 pm, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Parker Residence

_Well it's about time,_ Miss Parker growled silently as she walked to the front door, annoyance on her face.

She took a quick look through the peephole—she wasn't stupid— and after seeing Jarod's familiar face she undid the locks.

He stepped into her home and stuffed his hands into his pockets, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "So… are you ready?"

"I have been for the past _hour_, Jarod. What took you so long?"

For a moment he looked indignant. "I went as fast as I could. I had to secure a favor, buy some supplies, pack up everything from the hotel _and_ find out just where Lyle flew off to. India is a big place, Miss Parker, and I doubt that you want to waste any time trying to scour the country for our mutual friend Mr. Broots."

She scowled at him, but didn't say anything against it. She couldn't. He was right, goddamn him. He was _always_ right.

"Fine, lab rat. You'll give me what little information you may have discovered on the way. And where, exactly, are your two little lapdogs?"

"Astrea and Arthur are in the car outside, waiting for you," he told her patiently. Then, unable to resist throwing her own impatience back at her, he tapped his watch. "Don't you think we should get going?"

With an expected but still amusing glare, she shoved into his arms a medium sized—but very heavy—suitcase. "Just give me a moment to say goodbye to Freud and the kid. I'll go out and meet you in that rusted piece of junk cluttering up my driveway."

Jarod watched her go up the stairs (feeling ashamed that he couldn't seem to draw his eyes away from her cute little butt) and then went out the door and to the car. Astrea was in the back seat, her arms folded across her chest, and though Arthur was also in the back, he was a seat away from the brooding feral pretender. For the past two hours she'd been quiet, offering no words to explain her mood, but not really having to. Her body posture and the brief flashes of her canines were enough to clue Jarod in that she was still pissed.

And at this point, though he wasn't entirely sure if that was dangerous or not… he wasn't going to take any chances.

He settled himself in the driver's seat after packing the suitcase in the trunk with their other baggage, leaning back in his seat and momentarily closing his eyes. There was a long road and eventual flight ahead of them, and who knew what was going to happen after that. He still hadn't figured out why Lyle had taken Broots in the first place, though it was obviously a computer related reason. But why go to all that trouble? The shortest route between two points is a straight line—why curve out and make a pit stop? What was so important that Lyle had risked exposure? Debbie could have very well called the authorities on her father's kidnapping, and Jarod knew that though the Centre could probably fend them off, the police had received more than one call or complaint about them, and were bound to be suspicious.

He watched as Miss Parker stepped outside and started moving (though with reluctance) towards the car. Jarod came out and around to open the door for her, but Parker was obviously not in the mood for chivalry. She ignored Jarod and swung open the passenger seat door, sat down, and then slammed it shut. Sighing, Jarod shook his head and went back to the driver's side.

He backed out of the driveway and started down the road, and glanced over at Miss Parker. Her lips were tightly drawn, her eyes purposefully gazed out the windshield, and, as a finishing touch, her arms were folded across her chest. In short, her body language all but shouted that she wasn't in the mood for talking.

_Well,_ thought Jarod, _that's just too bad._

"So how is it that Debbie knows what I am?"

Silence.

"I suppose," Jarod continued, as though he hadn't been waiting for an answer, "that she used her father's computer and just read some of the documents he'd saved on there. Still, Broots _would_ have had some defenses on his computer. Where did she learn to get past his humble home security set-up? But, then again, she is a bright girl. I know that Broots must be very proud of her. I wonder if-"

"What do you want from me?!" Miss Parker screamed, spinning towards him as much as her seatbelt would allow. "Do you want me to talk to you, is that it? Do you want me to pretend (now there's an interesting word!) that the years I've spent chasing you were just a bad dream, and that you and I are still just the buddies we were when we were younger? That we can still have a nice, pleasant little conversation? Well, guess what, Jarod? It's not going to happen!" She lowered her voice to an icy tone. "And you're just going to have to understand that."

She turned away from him again, more stony than before, and Jarod just gaped at her in stunned hurt before focusing back on the road.

Not another word was spoken the rest of the ride.

12:36 pm, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Air Field Landing/Take-off Strip

"_This_ is the piece of junk we're supposed to go to India in?"

Jarod nodded. "Yep. A while back I helped the pilot with some legal issues and he told me to just call him if I ever needed him to return the favor."  
Miss Parker crossed her arms as she eyed the old, beat-up private plane. "Are you sure that this can even get off the _ground_?"

"Well o' course it can, ma'm," came the voice of a man jumping out from the small plane. He stopped and grinned. "I'm a poet and I did'n even know it."

"Oh my god," Parker said in a dry voice, her eyes undoubtedly narrowed behind her dark sunglasses. "I've died and gone to hick-ville."

The man raised his bushy light brown eyebrows and glanced at Jarod. "Well that one's certainly full o' cheer."

Jarod gave an embarrassed grin. "She's just a little irritated, Don. The plane that our guys were supposed to send never came, and calling you up was really last minute."

Don looked as though he didn't think that being frustrated was an excuse to be rude, but he nodded in understanding despite it.

Jarod suddenly opened his arms. "It's great to see you again, you know."

Don joined him in a short but caring hug. "Great to see you again, too, old friend."

Miss Parker simply rolled her eyes. _What is this, a Disney movie?_

After hugging his buddy, Don stepped back. "So, what is it that you do again, Jarod? Last time I saw ya, you were a financial inspector."

"I still am, actually. I just changed agencies." Jarod grin grew boyish. "I now work for a corporation called the Cen—"

"The Censured," Miss Parker cut in, kicking Jarod in the ankle discreetly. "I'm his new partner. We're going to India for an inspection in one of our foreign based branches."

Jarod raised his eyebrows appreciatively in spite of his now throbbing ankle. Had she been trained, Miss Parker would have made an exquisite pretender.

Don laughed heartily. "Well that just sounds like a barrel o' fun. So you're both coming on a business trip, eh? And the two by the car? What are they coming for?"

_Two?_ Jarod thought in surprise. _But I thought that it was only Astrea… Of course! Arthur! How could I have forgotten?!_

He'd been concentrating so much on what was to come and how his relationship (or lack thereof) with Miss Parker was progressing, that he'd totally forgotten the Englishman.

"Will you excuse me for just a moment?" he asked Don with a fake smile. "You've just reminded me of something I left in the car."

He turned around and walked away swiftly, but as he passed Miss Parker he whispered in her ear, "Cover for me."

Without waiting for a reply and hoping that she'd not simply "blow him off", he walked briskly over to the car. Astrea was leaning against the side, her arms crossed and a look of meditation on her face. As Jarod came closer she briefly opened one eye, gave a low, gutteral growl, and then ignored him again. Jarod let out a breath he didn't know he'd bee holding, and then opened the door to the backseat and sat down.

Arthur looked over at him, and a small, forced smile that could not mask his anxiety passed over the Englishman's face. "Erm… hello, Jarod. Did you want to ask me something?"

"You know very well what this is about, Arthur. You can't come with us to India."

All pretenses blown out of the water, Arthur exploded (in that quiet way that only the cultured English seem able to manage) with righteous fury.

"And why the bloody hell not? I'm as much a part of this as you yourself are, Jarod, and I don't see you being told to stay behind!"

"But you're _not_ a part of this," Jarod countered, "and you still have no idea how much danger you'd be in if you were."

"Pardon me, sir, but I really do think—"

"And that's part of the problem! You think you know what's going on, hell, for all I know there could be a _novel_ out there that has a situation similar to this one, but that's the problem. This is real _life_. You don't know how real and risky this is because you _can't_ know. You haven't seen the things I've seen and you're not prepared to."

"But I've already packed my bags…"

"What does that have to do with—?"

_Tap-tap_

Both men turned, and saw Miss Parker outside the car, glaring at them irritably. Jarod set his jaw, his blood still boiling, but opened the door and climbed out anyways.

"So," he said, slamming the door shut and letting out a sigh that he hoped would help calm him down, "what's the cover for Astrea and Arthur?" His lips pursed a little at the last name, but he was already becoming tranquil again.

"I told your buddy that 'Astrea' is your daughter for whom you had no babysitter, and the English guy is in training." Miss Parker saw at his reaction and threw her hands up in the air. "What?! What's wrong, _now_?"

"Nothing," Jarod muttered. Great. There went the idea of leaving Arthur behind. But he couldn't get angry with her. After all, he hadn't exactly specified what he'd wanted for a cover story, now had he? This was simply going to have to be dealt with later.

There was a chuckle from his left and he glanced over to see Astrea wearing a smirk that seemed to say: _I know what's got you riled, Jarod. You don't have a very tight hold on this quest of yours, do you?_

After some effort, however, he managed a look that responded: _What are talking about? I have everything under control._

They both, of course, knew better.

(Time Zone Applying)

11:04 am, Sunday

Kashmir, India

Nature Reserve

Centre Base

Broots stepped out of the jet with more than a little trepidation, his heart hammering in his chest. Some part of him was, of course, happy to breathe fresh air again, but the other part (most of him, actually) would have been more than happy to climb back inside that plane and twiddle his thumbs accommodatingly.

Cox steps out behind him, with Lia at his side. To any casual observer it might look like the arm that he had around her shoulders was a loving, almost fatherly gesture, but even Broots could see that it was just another form of handcuffs. Lia knew it too, if her hateful glare at Cox was any indication.

Next out of the plane was Lyle, followed by Raines. Raines got down with the help of a sweeper, and Broots was surprised to see that the sweeper was Willie. He couldn't help staring in amazement at him, and in the back of his mind he wondered how, after all he'd been through, he could still be astounded so easily. It was just Willie, after all, but Broots really hadn't expected to see him here… wherever 'here' was, that was. This trip was a new form of hell, and he still saw the sweeper as a, well, as a nice guy. He'd helped out Astrea, after all.

"Where are we?" Lyle sneered, looking at the tropical jungle surrounding them, "Rudyard Kipling's house?"

"Welcome to Kashmir, Lyle," Cox said, almost jovially, "the Centre's home away from home, and the Triumvirate's blight."

"It will… not be a blight for… much longer…" Raines gasped out, slowly accustoming to the air and pressure change, "…if the project we have here… works."

"Raines, my dear fellow, since when have _any_ of the Centre's projects gone off without a hitch?"

_Score a point for the scary Englishman_, Broots thought sourly.

Lia was still looking confused, and as discreetly as possible she managed to ask him 'Where are we?' through universally known hand gestures.

Broots mouthed back, 'India'.

Her eyes widened to the point where the tech was afraid they'd simply pop out of her sockets. Broots didn't much blame her. The kid looked like she'd never been to New York, much less to a foreign country.

Suddenly, Broots was administered a hard shove to the back that almost made him lose his already shaky balance. He steadied himself as best he could in his handcuffs however, and turned in the direction of his assailant. It was Willie, looking down at him from behind black sunglasses with a stoic expression.

"Move," the black sweeper said slowly, dragging out the word and a putting commanding voice behind it.

Never being one to question force (at least not often), Broots obliged and started to trudge through the thick undergrowth and into the deeper parts of India's jungles, heading along a path that would no doubt lead to a place that even this deadly forest feared to face.

3:14 pm, Sunday

On Don's Aircraft

Heading Towards India

_"This is ground control to Major Tom,"_ Don sang jovially with the radio, "_you've really made the grade! And the paper's want to know whose shirts you wear. Now it's time to leave the capsule if you—_"

"Will somebody _please_ shut him up?" Miss Parker growled in the back seat, squished between Jarod and Arthur, her clenched fists closing and opening rhythmically.

"Oh, I don't know," Astrea (on the far left) said in an introspective kind of voice, but with a wolfish smile. "I think he's got a wonderful out-of-tune voice." And then, just to spite her, Astrea began to hum along.

Miss Parker gave her a glare so full of hatred that her left eye started twitching. "When I get you back to the Centre…"

Astrea barked out a few, harsh laughs. "Oh, Miss Parker, you're so _funny_! Jarod, you never told me what a comedian she was."

Jarod made a small noise of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the book in his lap. He wasn't going to get into the middle of this. Astrea's "illness" seemed to have changed her entirely— you only had to look at that hyena-like glint in her eyes to know that much. She was unstable. And instability in a pretender— especially in one who shared an affinity to animals— was downright dangerous. Adding her to Miss Parker was like splitting an atom— the act was such a small thing, but it had _monstrous_ results.

In other words, he'd have to be loony to try and play peacemaker between them.

"What are you reading?"

Jarod looked over at Arthur, and was painfully aware that he'd become the center of attention.

"It's one of the books we picked up at the bookstore," he said, showing the cover: World Languages, Volume III. "It's a six volume set written by a rather famous linguist. It has the basics of Spanish, French, German, Sign Language, Simplified Chinese, and two of the more prominent languages of India. I thought that it wouldn't hurt to learn as much 'Indian' as I could before we land there."

Miss Parker snorted derisively.

Astrea merely tilted her head to the side, a small smirk on her face.

"Oh… well, jolly good, then," Arthur said. "But how can you…um, well, you know…"

Jarod smiled. "I can learn a lot in only a few hours, Arthur. Call it a talent of mine."

"And yet he hasn't managed to learn _anything_ about me over the past three _years_," Miss Parker mused. "Hmm. Interesting."

The pretender suppressed the urge to send her a sour look when he realized (if only subconsciously) that she was right. He _didn't_ know anything about her— not where it mattered.

Jarod suddenly gave a smile, a smirk full of mischief and puckish plotting that had angered more than one sweeper in its day.

No, he didn't really know her…

But a week in India was more than enough time to get acquainted.

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Review Returns:

** Kir:** Thank you very much for the compliments. I was at first uneasy about mixing the first and third person perspectives, but I'm glad that you enjoy them. Also, as to your Debbie suggestion, she will not have a major role in _this_ story… but perhaps she will show up in the _sequel_. wink

** Pez7701:** I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and I of course will keep posting chapters. ShadowElfBard NEVER abandons a story!

** Onisius:** Yeah, I tried to convey that though Debbie was finding out a lot about people, she was still a child and children 'say the darndest things'. Thanks for the info on their meeting, by the way. I got so interested that I looked up that show's plot synopsis. It sounded like it was a great one— it's too bad I missed it.

** Rem-Cycle:** As always, I was _delighted_ to get another lengthy review from you— they really make my day. I'm glad you enjoyed the little sparks that went off between people. There are definitely some negative and positive charges between the characters and I love shoving them together to see what happens. Also, your insights on Sydney seem really well founded and thought out. Yes, I also agree that he seems to be a pillar of stregth, but his age _is_ evident, and he just can't make the trip. Besides, _someone_ has to watch Debbie. Anywho, thank you VERY much for the review (and the compliments, can't forget about those) and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

** Pretender Fanatic:** You like Arthur? So do I. There's just something about the English that makes them very comical and fun to write about. (I also can't get enough of their slang! ;-D) Also, you can probably expect to see one or to more little confrontations in the future— as you said, they're just waiting to happen. Also, I too am surprised at the number of reviews 'Elf 17' and 'Silent Feelings' have received. But, of course, I couldn't be happier.

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Well, here's another chapter! I hope that you liked the third-person and weren't too annoyed by it. Also, you might have noticed that my formatting has changed. That is a result of the need to experiment. It is also a result of the fact that FF.net screwed up the last chapter I uploaded (it was to another story) and so I'm going to try and see if this works. Thanks for your patience, and I hope to see you soon!

Tootles!


	18. Begins With A Single Step

**Disclaimer:** I own this like I own Microsoft. (And for those of you who aren't aware, a RICH powerful force named Bill Gates owns Microsoft, not the POOR and (mostly) humble writer ShadowElfBard.)

**Rating:** I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't just stop saying this—it's getting really, really old. But, just for one more roll around, here it is, this story's rating (drum roll, please!)…. PG-13!!! made-up audience cheers in background

**Summary:** It all begins with a single step…

**Feedback:** I'm getting very lonely in my ripe old age of fifteen, and I have only these electronic commentaries to keep me company.

**Quote:**

**"I regret not having a nicotine patch the size of a doormat."**

--- Miss Parker

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X

2:18 pm, Sunday

Kashmir, India

Local Village

X

The dirt roads were teeming with people. It seemed like millions were crowding the walkways, all hustling and bustling as though every one of them had someplace to be. Women were out carrying food, tending to their children, or washing clothing. Men were riding in wagons off to work, bringing home goods from town, and laughing at the children that ran around playing. The area was full of life, and everyone obviously worked hard to keep it that way.

"I had no idea how many of them there were," Arthur said. "It's remarkable."

"It is," Jarod agreed, "and this is just a village. Think of how many there might be in the _city_."

"I'd rather not," Astrea suddenly piped up, growling briefly and wrinkling her small nose. "They reek of sweat and dirt."

"You caught that too?" Miss Parker said snidely, inwardly feeling overdressed and out of place.

Don had been able to find a landing spot in this remote area, and they had been very lucky in doing so. Jarod knew very well that all foreign aircrafts flying over or landing in this country were to be scheduled ahead of time, and that visitors were to obtain visas at the Indian embassy. Those arriving without visas were subject to immediate deportation. What this all boiled down to was that if they had tried to land in a more…'populated' area of India, their plane would have been spotted and their little quest would have been over before it had even begun.

"So, where to now?" Miss Parker asked, aware that more than a few people were looking at them in curiosity.

"I'm not entirely sure," Jarod responded. "I know that Kashmir is where Lyle was scheduled to arrive, but beyond that I don't know."

"What are we to do, then?" Arthur questioned.

Jarod thought for a moment, and then muttered, "When in doubt, ask for directions."

Before anyone could think to question this strange sentiment, Jarod had walked off towards a well-dressed woman carrying a basket of fruits.

He approached her and spoke in what one would perceive as kind, soft voice, pointing towards the sky once or twice. The woman (who had nearly jumped out of her skin when he'd first spoken to her) seemed not to hear what he was saying. She kept shaking her head 'no' and her wide eyes were darting from left to right, as though looking for someone to save her. Finally, a younger but well muscled young man stepped in front of her and began moving towards Jarod threateningly, speaking in a harsh tongue and forcefully shoving the pretender back. Jarod, quickly reassessing the situation, held his hands up in front of him in a surrender-like gesture and quickly backed off.

When he had rejoined the group, Parker sneered at him. "What happened, Jarod? Were you trying to hit on her?"

He shook his head. "I don't understand it. Why wouldn't she talk to me?"

Astrea barked out a harsh laugh. "And you call yourself a pretender."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you approached a Hindu woman of a high caste. You, a white male. To them you are just as low as the outcastes in rank, meaning that you are not worth speaking to. Add that to the fact that you are a man, and it's no wonder why that young woman was so eager to get away."

Jarod sighed. "I had forgotten how complex the Hindu religion is, and its popularity in India. Well, I guess I'll just have to find an outcaste or non-Hindu."

"Good luck with that last one," Astrea sneered in that strange, cruel new voice.

It took nearly half an hour of searching, and though Jarod received quite a few glares and insults along the way, he finally found an older man who would talk to him. He asked if the man had seen anything unusual over the last day or so, and if any planes had flown over the village. After a few moments of thought, the man smiled and told him that while he had not noticed anything he'd call unusual, he had seen a plane fly over yesterday. The man pointed in the direction that the aircraft had been heading, and Jarod thanked him profusely before going to tell the others.

They all discussed it (except Astrea, who merely interjected with snide comments or insulting gestures) and agreed that the man's information was the only lead they had. There was nothing more they could do than to try and follow it.

"Where did he say this thing was flying off to again?" Miss Parker demanded.

Jarod looked at the map. "The most likely area would be the nature reserve farther up north. It's naturally a fenced off area, and secluded enough for the Centre to work unnoticed."

"But how?" Arthur asked. "Aren't reserves supposed to be… um…reserved?"

"True enough, but this is the Centre we're talking about. If they needed a place badly enough they could have used extortion, blackmail, bribery or any other number of tricks to gain access. Politicians can usually be bought off without anyone suspecting anything."

"But how will we get in?"

"We'll tackle the fences. A snip of a wire here, a bit of dirt dug out there, and we'll have a sizeable enough entrance."

"Well, we don't have all year to discuss this," Miss Parker pointed out, "so let's get on with it already."

X

X

3:26 pm, Sunday

Kashmir, India

Nature Reserve

Centre Base

X

Broots bit back a gasp as the base came into view. The place was _huge_. Seven feet high barbed wire fences, guard posts _and_ armed sentry patrolling the borders. What in the world was the Centre doing here? It wasn't caring for India's wildlife- _that_ much was obvious.

The Jeep slowed to a stop and their driver jumped out, running over to the other side to open the door for Raines. Willie jumped out and waved him off, making it clear that _he _was the only one who would be assisting the bald doctor. The driver shrugged and stood back politely.

The ride to the base had been a half-days journey, even at the speed they'd gone, and during that horrible trip the driver hadn't spoken a word. Broots wondered if the man didn't speak simply because he feared the Centre agents, or if he simply didn't know enough English. The latter was fairly unlikely, because the man seemed to have been able to speak well enough when he'd greeted them at the landing site.

As much as Broots was worried about what lay beyond the gates, his main concern was for Lia. She was just a little girl. He still didn't know why she was even here. He had already guessed that she wasn't a pretender, but beyond that he was (as was the norm) clueless.

Broots gulped silently when a heavy hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. He looked behind him, and there was Lyle, smiling in a way that froze the marrow in Broots' bones. Unable to look away, Broots also noticed the hidden hate in Lye's insanity ridden eyes.

"You should get moving," Lyle said quietly. "Wouldn't want to be late for your big day."

Broots nodded wordlessly and clambered out of the jeep, looking over at Lia with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Past the gates was an immense, almost militaristic complex. There were scattered worker's huts, a few storage tents and two large concrete building, fenced off and guarded by armed riflemen. Raines spoke quietly to their former driver and the two seemed to reach a conclusion. The driver waved over two of the guards, and then pointed at Broots, speaking in a foreign tongue. Broots was grabbed roughly by the arms, and forcefully led away from the group. He managed to turn his head back just in time to see Lia's wide eyes and silent fear, and then the group was out of sight.

He was taken through the hustling camp into one of the fenced off buildings. The inside was modern and unmarred by the primitive jungle just outside its doors. Broots hoped that the people would be just as "clean", but in every pair of dark eyes that regarded him he saw only disinterest and cruelty.

Broots was truly alone.

They finally stopped at a large steel door and Broots was shoved into the large, nearly empty room. A Caucasian man stood and stepped around from his desk in the corner, abandoning what were perhaps the remnants of his lunch. He pushed up his thin glasses and regarded Broots with little more than vague interest.

"And who might you be?"

Too stunned to say anything, Broots only stared. The man furrowed his brows and sighed.

"Please, don't tell me that they've sent me _another_ technician with his tongue cut out. I swear the Centre's methods can be so _barbaric_ sometimes."

Hurriedly, Broots cleared his throat. "My, uh, my tongue's not cut out."

"Oh thank _god_," the man said with obvious relief. "I was afraid I was going to have to play 'name that tune' for the next hour. So, who are you?"

"Um, my name's Broots. I—"

"No, no, no." the man waved his hands, telling him to stop. "I am asking you what branch you were sent from. What is your work number? Who is your superior?"

"My superior?"

"Damn it all, I just want to know who the heck _sent_ you."

"Oh. The uh, the Centre, I guess."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Dr. Raines, I think. I was, um, I was working under him last."

"Finally, we're _getting_ somewhere." The man turned and went back to his desk, rustling through some papers before finally producing a clipboard and pen.

"Now then, are you a technician?"

"Yes. I work with computers."

The man rolled his eyes. "Well _duh_. You wouldn't be here if you didn't. Look, this is going to take a _very _long time if things keep going like this, so please try to make an _attempt_ at answering intelligently."

"O-Okay."

"Now then, I'm going to assume that you have at least an _outline_ of our objective so I'm going to skip all of that jargon and—"

"Uh…."

The man paused and looked up, despairing. "You don't even have an _idea_? Not even a _notion_?"

Broots smiled awkwardly with apologetic eyes.

The man held his forehead as though he felt a headache coming on, and let out a long sigh. "Very well. I'll debrief you on the basics once the others have returned from their lunch period."

"The others?"

"The other technicians." On a whim, the scientist smiled cruelly. "Your fellow inmates, if you prefer."

Broots looked at the man's grin, at the serpentine gleam in his eyes, and inwardly shuddered.

X

X

7:41pm, Sunday

Kashmir, India

Nature Reserve

X  
"We should probably stop here for the night," Jarod called over his shoulder, already setting down his pack.

Miss Parker came up behind him first, her face flushed and her hair tied back in a crude bun. Her only answer to the pretender's suggestion was a well-aimed glare, but she also lowered her pack and then moved over to sit on a rock. She crossed her arms and legs and turned her head to the river.

Jarod watched this and sighed.

Huffing and puffing like a much scrawnier version of the Big Bad Wolf came Arthur, his glasses askew and struggling to keep his thin body upright.

"Oh," he squeaked out, looking at his companions. "Are we taking a breather, then? Yes? Oh, jolly good."

He collapsed to the floor without further prompting.

Jarod laughed quietly and started unrolling his sleeping bag.

_Snap_.

The pretender's head shot up in the direction of the noise and he saw Astrea not even three feet away, her position feral and her eyes watching him with interest. Trying to appear nonchalant, trying to make her believe that he _hadn't _had his heart in his throat just two seconds ago, Jarod stood.

"We stopped."

"Yes," he affirmed. "We have."

She paced once or twice in an almost frustration and growled out, "Why?"

"They're tired. I am too. We have a long ways ahead of us and it will be easier to travel once we're refreshed. Here, take my sleeping bag. I'll sleep over by that tree and—"

Astrea snarled, and the sound was so primal, so purely animalistic that Jarod was stunned to silence. This was it; it was finally happening.

Astrea was going mad.

The girl paced to and fro again, unable to articulate what she felt. She shook her head, "No."

Jarod swallowed, a hollow sound that he was sure belayed his fear. "Look, there's no use traveling in the dark."

"Must keep _moving_."

"You can't fight them off alone," he said quietly.

Her head snapped towards him, her eyes catching his and holding them tightly. Despite this, Jarod kept going.

"They'll catch you if you go on alone," he said. "You need us, and we have to get some rest. You can wait one night for us to regain our strength. We can move at first dawn if you like, but not before."

She seemed to consider this, swirling the taste of the idea in her mouth like a fine wine. Finally, she nodded. "Dawn. You rest now, and we move at dawn."

Like a shadow she slipped off into the gathering darkness.

Jarod let out a breath, and sat in a crumpled heap, his eyes closed. What was happening? This wasn't the plan at all. Everything had gone wrong and he didn't know where to begin making it right.

"You know that we're going to have to watch her now, don't you?"

Jarod looked behind him. Miss Parker, still sitting by the river, watched him with cool eyes. "What?" he asked wearily.

"We're going to have to watch her. She's losing it."

"Yeah," he agreed softly, "I know."

There was quiet after that, and when the first light of morning woke him Jarod couldn't remember when it was he'd even fallen asleep.

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**Review Returns:**

** Artemis Rain:** I'm glad you're enjoying it! Hope you liked this chapter!

**Earthdrago:** No, you weren't complaining too much. I have fallen behind (understatement of the CENTURY), but I'm trying. Shrugs Well, anyway, I'm glad you like the tension and thanks for the review!

**Pretender Fanatic:** Astrea probably should attack Parker. Grin It would be amusing. Thanks for the review, Fanatic! I always enjoy them!


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